tiillllliiillililiiii    in  I  nil  i  mini  IN  iniin  n  in  im 


233 


•  r-i.'Or  <L>  r-'f— \   v 

Master  of 
Fat£. 

By 

AMELIA  E.   BARR 


New  York 
Dodd,  Mead  &  Company 


P 


Copyright  1888 

by 
DODD,  MEAD  &  COMPANY 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. — THE  OWNER  OF  BEVIN  MILL,  -  i 
CHAPTER  II. — JOE,  -  17 
CHAPTER  III. — A  GREAT  CHANGE,  -  33 
CHAPTER  IV. — THUS  RUNS  THE  WORLD  AWAY,  49 
CHAPTER  V. — JOE  PLEASES  HIS  FATHER,  -  67 
CHAPTER  VI. — MASTER  AND  MISTRESS  OF  BRAD 
LEY,  -  8 1 
CHAPTER  VII. — THINGS  THAT  TROUBLE,  -  97 
CHAPTER  VIII. — LIFE  AT  BRADLEY  COURT,  -  114 
CHAPTER  IX. — JOE'S  FORTHPUT,  -  -  129 
CHAPTER  X. — EDITH'S  HARD  BLOW,  -  -  145 
CHAPTER  XI. — EDITH  WINS  TWO  VICTORIES,  161 
CHAPTER  XII.— AT  BRADLEY,  -  -  181 
CHAPTER  XIII. — JOE  RISES  IN  ESTEEM,  -  199 
CHAPTER  XIV.— CALUMNY,  -  -  217 
CHAPTER  XV. — AMOS  MAKES  MORNING  CALLS,  233 
CHAPTER  XVI.— JOE  HAS  A  SURPRISE,  252 
CHAPTER  XVII. — AMOS  MAKES  EDITH  A  PRO 
POSAL,  -  -  265 
CHAPTER  XVIII. — AMOS  BRAITHWAITE  AND  SON,  279 


MASTER  OF    HIS   FATE 

A  TALE  OF  THE  WEST  RIDING. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  OWNER    OF  BEVIN    MILL. 

The  day  was  made 

To  number  out  the  hours  of  busy  men  ; 
Let  them  be  busy  still,  and  still  be  wretched, 
And  take  their  fill  of  anxious  drudging  day. 

— DRYDIN. 

So  sullenly  addicted  still 
To  his  one  principle,  his  will, 
That  whatsoe'er  it  chanced  to  prove, 
No  force  of  argument  could  move ; 
For  obstinacy's  ne'er  so  stiff 

As  when  'tis  in  a  wrong  belief. 

— HUDIBRAS. 

THE  tree  God  plants  no  wind  hurts.  It  is 
shaken  by  tempests  and  drenched  with 
rains.  The  dew  and  the  sunshine  nourish  it. 
It  grows  to  fair  proportions,  and  brings  forth 
fruit  in  its  season.  So  also  is  the  man  whom 
God  makes.  He  is  chastened  by  sorrow.  He 


2  MASTER  OF  HIS  FATE. 

has  the  discipline  of  patience  and  of  disappoint 
ment.  He  has  the  comforts  of  love  and  the 
sweet  surprises  of  godsends.  All  the  capabil 
ities  of  his  nature  are  drawn  out  and  perfected. 
He  turns  his  face  to  the  sunshine,  and  is  gra 
cious  and  blessed  in  all  his  ways. 

The  self-made  man,  as  the  word  is  generally 
understood,  is  different.  He  has  built  up  a 
great  business,  but  he  has  neglected  himself. 
He  has  made  beautiful  his  dwelling,  but  for 
gotten  to  ennoble  the  man  who  is  to  inhabit 
the  splendid  rooms.  He  is  stunted  in  all  his 
senses  but  those  necessary  for  making  money. 
His  nature  remains  incomplete,  and  there  is 
small  hope  of  any  grander  development,  be 
cause  he  is  perfectly  satisfied  with  his  own 
work. 

Sooner  or  later,  however,  if  God  be  merciful 
to  them,  these  architects  of  a  special  manhood 
find  out  the  magnitude  of  their  limitations. 
Reluctantly  they  are  forced  to  admit  that, 
though  they  control  money,  they  can  not  con 
trol  things  not  to  be  bought  with  money,  love, 
respect,  and  obedience.  They  discover  that 
the  honor  of  the  market-place  does  not  include 
that  far  more  impartial  judgment  of  their  own 


THE  OWNER   OF  BEVIN   MILL.  3 

households,  where  they  are  weighed  in  a  truer 
balance,  and  found  often  to  be  grievously 
wanting. 

Amos  Braithwaite  was  a  self-made  man,  and 
he  asserted  the  circumstance  whenever  he  could 
with  a  consequential  satisfaction.  Every  one 
who  knew  him,  and  many  who  did  not  know 
him,  had  heard  the  little  bluster  of  affected 
humility  in  which  he  was  wont  to  complacently 
state  his  own  case. 

"  I  weren't  born  wi'  a  silver  spoon  i'  my 
mouth,  not  I  !  When  I  wer'  a  lad  I  sell'd 
papers  i'  Bradford  Market,  and  I'm  proud  of  it 
to-day,  I  am  that !  I'd  no  father  or  mother  to 
advise  me,  and  I  niver  hed  a  day's  schooling ; 
but  I  wer'  determined  to  git  on,  and  I  did  git 
on.  All  I  know  I  learn'd  mysen.  All  t'money 
I  hev  I  made  mysen.  And  look  at  me  now  f 
There's  many  a  swell  as  thinks  himsen  summat 
extra  wi'  his  fine  schooling  as  I  could  buy  out 
and  out  to-day.  And  thou  knows  it's  so,  eh, 
Martha?" 

He  was  delivering  his  favorite  oration  to  his 
sister-in-law,  Miss  Martha  Thrale,  a  shrewd, 
handsome  Yorkshire  woman,  who  had  man- 
aeed  his  household  affairs  ever  since  the  death 


4  MASTER  OF  HIS  FATE. 

of  her  sister,  nearly  twenty  years  previous. 
She  was  quite  familiar  with  it  in  all  its  vari 
ations,  yet  when  he  said,  "  And  look  at  me 
now! "  she  lifted  her  eyes  a  moment  from  her 
knitting  and  looked  at  him. 

What  she  saw  was  a  tall,  stout  man  with  a 
head  whose  chief  strength  and  mass  was  in  the 
hinder  part,  a  man  strong,  rough,  elemental, 
with  a  firm  will,  a  choleric  temperament,  and  a 
great  energy  for  self-service.  His  dexterity  of 
mind  and  acuteness  of  judgment  were  indica 
ted,  not  only  by  his  keen  gray  eyes,  but  by  the 
way  in  which  their  lids  were  drawn  horizon 
tally  over  them.  Still,  though  the  large  cor 
neas  gave  an  animal  expression  to  the  face,  the 
whole  head  indicated  nobler  possibilities  of 
character,  for  the  mid-region  was  well  arched, 
and  it  was  not  unlikely  that,  under  favorable 
circumstances,  feeling  would  rule  intellect,  and 
the  calculating  selfish  element  vanish  before  an 
earnest  a<nd  fervent  affection 

He  stood  upon  the  handsome  Hearthrug  with 
his  legs  planted  well  apart,  as  firm  on  the 
broad  basis  of  his  self-complacency  as  the  pyra 
mids  on  the  desert ;  and  his  hands  were  clasped 
beneath  his  own  coat-tails.  This  coat  was  of 


THE    OWNER    OF  BEV1N   MILL.  5 

cloth  of  his  own  manufacture,  good,  substan 
tial  cloth,  made  in  a  manner  as  uncompromis 
ing  and  unfashionable  as  its  wearer.  A  stolid, 
solid,  upright,  downright  man,  with  plenty  of 
sinew  and  bone  to  carry  out  whatever  his 
mind  planned  or  his  will  determined. 

"  And  look  at  me  now  !  " 

So  Martha  Thrale  looked  at  him  for  a 
moment  ere  she  answered  :  "  Some  folks  do 
think  as  thou  hest  done  varry  well  to  thysen, 
Amos." 

"  So  I  hev.  Varry  well,  indeed  !  I  hev  niver 
wanted  either  friends  or  enemies  ;  and  I'll  tell 
thee  what,  Martha,  one  sort  hes  happen  helped 
me,  just  as  much  as  t'other  sort.  I've  niver 
counted  friends  and  I've  never  feared  enemies. 
And  I  sud  like  our  Joe  to  do  just  as  I  hev  done, 
and  to  be  just  such  a  man  as  his  father  is." 

"  I  sud  think  thou  would  like  to  bring  up  a 
son  as  could  show  there  could  be  somebody  a 
bit  better  than  thee." 

Amos  looked  angrily  at  her.  He  had  often 
said  that  "  Martha  Thrale  wasn't  like  t'  rest  o' 
women  folk,  made  o'  wax,  or  some  such  stuff;  " 
and  he  saw  and  understood  the  settled  look 
upon  her  large,  calm  face. 


6  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

"So  our  Joe  hes  been  trying  to  get  round 
thee,  hes  he  ?  Sure-ly  to  goodness,  thou  isn't 
going  to  help  t'  lad  in  his  folly  !  As  ta  never 
did  such  a  thing  before,  I'm  surprised  as  thou 
sud  do  it  now  ;  I  am  that,  Martha!  " 

"  Thou  hesn't  reckoned  up  our  Joe  correctly. 
There  is  a  deal  in  Joe  that  niver  was  in  thee, 
Amos." 

"  I  sud  hope  not.  Now,  then,  hear  what  I 
hev  to  say.  I'll  hev  none  o'  his  rubbishy,  ro 
mancing  books.  He's  a  deal  better  among  t' 
wool-bags  than  spoiling  good  paper  wi'  bad 
poetry.  There's  all  t'  poetry  anybody  need 
hev  in  that  Wesleyan  hymn-book  o'  thine.  I 
know  our  Joe,  and  I  know  there  is  no  more 
poetry  in  his  head  than  there  is  in  '  Bradshaw's 
Railway  Guide.'  /'//  not  hev  it  there  anyhow  ! 
Let  him  stick  to  t'  mill.  I  reckon  nowt  o'  a 
man  that  talks  against  what  brings  in  good 
money.  It's  mean  as  mean  can  be.  Thou 
knows  that." 

"I  think  our  Joe  sud  hev  a  chance  to  follow 
out  his  own  inclinations.  Ivery  bird  flies  best 
with  its  awn  feathers." 

"Joe  hesn't  got  any  feathers  of  his  awn. 
He'll  hev  to  come  to  me  for  t'  ways  and  means 


THE   OWNER  OF  BE  FIN  MILL.  7 

to  do  his  flying.  But  I  tak'  notice  that  young 
fellows  in  these  days  can  allays  read  their  title 
clear  to  whativer  t'  old  man  hes  that  takes  their 
fancy." 

"  Most  fathers  would  be  proud  of  a  fine  lad 
like  our  Joe.  In  t'  way  of  study,  nothing  beats 
him.  He  is  all  for  learning  t'  French  language 
now,  and  he's  found  out  somebody  that  can 
teach  him  how  to  talk  it,  and  help  him  a  bit 
with  his  violin  beside.  Joe  tak's  to  music  like 
a  bird  to  its  song.  He  does  that,  Amos." 

"  Whativer  are  we  getting  to,  Martha  ?  Thou 
fair  caps  me  !  I'll  hev  no  French  and  fiddling 
in  my  house  ;  mind  that  now  !  French  indeed  ! 
I  wonder  to  goodness  who  educates  them  foreign 
creatures  ?  I  could  not  mak'  sense  o'  a  word 
the  man  spoke  when  I  met  him  wi'  Joe." 

"  And  he  didn't  understand  thee,  I'll  be 
bound." 

"  I  speak  good  Yorkshire,  and  that's  the  best 
o'  good  English  going.  Joe's  mother  wer' 
allays  reading  poetry.  It's  bad  for  a  lad  when 
he  has  hed  a  mother  given  to  poetry  and  non 
sense.  T'lad  might  hev  done  varry  well  but 
for  her  heving  a  bee  in  her  bonnet." 

"  I  think  thou  hed  better  say   nothing  at  a1 


MASTER  OF  HIS  FATE. 

of  Joe's  mother,  Amos.  Thou  knew  varry 
little  about  her.  That  Avas  thy  loss,  not  hers." 

"  I  sud  think  I  know  summat  about  my  awn 
wife,  Martha." 

"  Thou  knew  nothing  of  her.  How  could 
ta  ?  Thou  wert  that  throng-  making  money  that 
thy  home  was  nobbut  a  place  to  eat  and  sleep 
in,  while  t'  engine  stopped.  I'll  say  this  for  my 
sister  Ann  :  if  ta  hed  known  her  thou  would 
hev  thought  more  of  her." 

"  We  wer'  speaking  o'  Joe,  and  not  of  thy 
sister  Ann.  And  as  for  Joe  Braithwaite,  I'll 
hev  no  high-flown  ideas  put  into  his  head  by  a 
lot  o'  women  and  schoolmasters.  It  is  more 
than  a  bit  thy  fault,  and  thou  knows  it,  Martha. 
Before  t'  lad  hed  his  first  breeches  on,  thou 
wert  telling  him  all  sorts  o'lies  about  fairy  folk  : 
thet's  so  !  "  and  Amos  looked  reproachfully  into 
Martha's  face. 

The  look  upon  that  face  w  as  something 
new  to  him.  It  meant  rebellion  on  his  own 
hearthstone.  In  twenty  years  he  had  seen 
nothing  like  it.  If  a  thunderbolt  had  fallen  at 
his  feet  it  could  scarcely  have  amazed  him 
more.  There  was  a  spirit  of  revolt  in  Martha's 
very  silence.  The  click  of  her  knitting-needles 


THE   OWNER   OF  BE  VIA7  MILL.  9 

seemed  to  be  contradicting  him,  and  he  felt 
the  necessity  of  instantly  asserting  himself. 

Under  such  circumstances  he  naturally  took 
his  stand  upon  his  success  in  business.  That 
was  a  subject  a  woman  ought  naturally  to  feel 
snubbed  by.  She  could  not  emulate  him. 
And  she  could  not  criticise  him,  at  least  with 
any  show  of  propriety  or  justice.  So  he  added 
with  a  fine  tolerance,  "  Thou  lies  been  too  soft 
wi'  Joe.  Thet  is  a  woman's  way.  But  it's  a' 
wrong.  When  Joe  puts  himsen  rayther  too 
for'ard,  I  wonder  thou  didn't  say  a  few  words 
that  would  hev  taken  t'  sharp  edge  off  his  fine 
talk.  Nobody  can  do  that  better  than  thee. 
Thou  sud  hev  said — " 

"What,  sud  I  hev  said?' 

"  '  Look  at  thy  father,  Joe  !  See  what  a  big 
fortune  he  hes  made  ! ' ' 

"  One  would  think,  Amos,  that  thou  hed  done 
some  great  and  good  action  in  making  thy  awn 
fortune.  Laying  up  money  for  thysen  !  Does 
ta  think  that  entitles  thee  to  t'  love  and  grati 
tude  of  thy  fellow-creatures?  I  don't  believe 
they  think  so,  my  lad." 

"  Don't  thee  try  to  be  sarcastic  wi'  me,  Mar 
tha.  I  don't  mind  thy  words.  I  hev  made 


10  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

nearly  half  a  million  o'  pounds.  What  is  a  few 
words  to  figures  like  them,  eh?" 

"  Half  a  million  o'  pounds  ! — they  are  noth 
ing  if  thou  puts  them  against  real  goodness  and 
knowledge." 

"Nothing!"  gasped  Amos;  then,  with  the 
contempt  such  a  statement,  in  his  opinion,  de 
served,  he  answered :  "  Thou  art  talking  for 
talking's  sake.  Women  are  a  foolish  lot.  Is 
there  aught  i'  this  world  better  than  honestly 
earned  money?  " 

"  Ay,  there  is ;  and  what's  more,  t'  Bible  up 
holds  me  in  saying  so.  For  it  makes  out  that 
wisdom  is  better  than  gold,  and  knowledge 
better  than  rubies  and  fine  gold." 

"  I  niver  heard  such  things." 

"How  could  ta  hear  them?  Thou  niver 
goes  to  church  or  to  chapel,  and  thou  niver 
reads  aught  but  t'  newspapers.  If  anybody 
sud  quote  t'  New  Testament  to  thee  it  would 
be  so  unlike  any  o'  thy  notions  that  thou  would 
be  sure  to  think  t'  words  were  written  by  some 
one  as  wanted  to  turn  t'  world  upside  down 
with  their  foolishness." 

"  Say  no  more,  Martha  ;  say  no  more  !  It's 
fair  nonsense  arguing  wi'  women.  T'  long  and 


THE  OWNER   OF  BEVIN  MILL.  II 

t'  short  of  it  is,  I'll  hev  Joe  think  as  I  think, 
and  do  as  I  do.  Tell  him  that." 

"Tell  him  thysen." 

"Ay,  I  will." 

Then  he  left  the  room  with  an  air  of  injury 
that  for  a  few  moments  half  imposed  upon 
Martha.  She  had  to  have  a  conversation  with 
her  own  conscience  before  she  felt  quite  at  ease 
again  about  her  position.  Siding  with  a  son 
who  was  inclined  to  set  himself  up  against  the 
wishes  of  his  father  was  no  light  thing  in  her 
eyes,  and  only  to  be  justified  by  circumstances 
indisputably  warranting  such  opposition. 

She  thought  such  circumstances  existed,  and 
whether  her  judgment  was  right  or  wrong,  she 
was,  at  least,  actuated  by  the  most  sincere  re 
gard  for  the  highest  interests  of  her  nephew. 
Her  affection  for  him  was  almost  maternal  in 
character,  for  since  the  death  of  his  mother,  in 
his  third  year,  she  had  been  a  mother  to  him. 
She  loved  him  wisely  and  well,  and  beyond  this 
tie  there  was  a  sisterly  bond  that  neither  the 
changes  of  life  nor  the  great  change  of  death 
had  been  able  to  weaken.  Joe  was  not  only 
Joe,  he  was  also  "  Sister  Ann's  dear  bairn." 
And  Sister  Ann  was  a  memory  to  Martha,  hold- 


12  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

ing  all  other  memories  of  their  short,  happy 
youth  together. 

After  Amos  had  left  her  in  such  high  dud 
geon  she  sat  very  still,  remembering.  Her 
knitting  dropped  from  her  hands,  her  eyes 
looked  far  beyond  the  dreary  village,  straggling 
up  to  the  park-gates.  She  saw  the  old  rectory 
among  the  low,  curving  hills.  She  was  with 
her  sister  in  its  pleasant  rooms  and  garden. 
She  heard  her  voice  filling  the  dim  spaces  of 
the  ancient  church  with  the  joyful  Sabbath 
psalms.  She  clasped  her  hand  over  their 
father's  grave.  She  recalled  all  their  struggles 
and  privations  together,  until  Ann  married 
Amos  Braithwaite.  What  for?  She  would  not 
ask  herself  the  question.  She  believed  fully  in 
the  purity  and  kindness  of  Ann's  motives  ;  and 
if  her  good  intentions  did  not  turn  out  well, 
Ann  was  not  to  be  blamed  for  the  failure  ;  for 
alas !  mistakes  are  punished  in  this  life  quite 
irrespective  of  good  intentions. 

The  marriage  had  not  been  a  happy  one  ;  and 
after  the  birth  of  her  child,  Ann  never  rallied. 
She  was  ill  for  three  years,  and  then  she  went 
quietly  away  one  night,  when  all  the  household 
were  asleep.  Amos  was  relieved  by  her  depar- 


THE   OWNER  OF  BEVIN  MILL.  13 

ture.  He  had  outlived  his  fancy  for  the  frail 
beauty,  and  the  expense  and  trouble  of  her 
long  sickness  had  been  a  great  trial  to  him. 
Yet,  after  it  was  over,  he  forgave  the  poof 
woman  fully,  in  consideration  of,  "  t'  fine  little 
lad  she  hed  left  him." 

On  this  child  all  his  hopes  settled  themselves. 
It  was  his  ambition  to  make  money,  and  to  buy 
land,  and  to  call  the  land  after  his  own  name. 
Therefore,  a  son  to  carry  on  his  name  was  of 
the  first  importance  to  his  project.  Martha 
thought  of  all  these  things,  but  she  did  not 
think  of  them  as  Amos  did.  She  looked  on 
Joe  as  an  individual  soul,  and  not  as  a  link  in  a 
family  chain.  She  did  not  believe  his  welfare 
ought  to  be  sacrificed  either  for  the  plans  of  his 
father  or  the  good  of  a  posterity  as  yet  mythi 
cal  and  uncertain. 

She  had  made  some  solemn  promises  to  her 
sister  regarding  the  boy,  and  she  meant  to 
fulfil  them  if  it  were  possible  for  her  to  do  so. 
"  But  there  are  so  many  ifs  in  all  human  calcu 
lations,"  she  thought;  "and  we  are  ready 
enough  to  pick  out  t*  varry  worst  we  can  find. 
Deary  me  !  Human  hearts  are  just  nests  o1 
fear.  They  are  that !" 


14  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

Then  she  rose  and  put  away  her  knitting,  and 
going  to  the  window  looked  down  at  the  great 
mill  in  the  valley.  Excepting  for  its  water 
privileges,  and  its  nearness  to  the  chief  wool 
markets  the  situation  of  Market  Bevin  was  not 
desirable.  No  scenery  in  England  could  be 
sadder  or  wilder  than  the  bleak  range  of  hills 
girdling  it  on  two  sides,  bare  hills  partitioned 
into  fields  by  leagues  of  stone  walls,  here  and 
there  a  dreary  village  where  quarrymen  lived, 
here  and  there  a  desolate  mansion  standing  for 
lornly  in  the  midst  of  fields  that  were  not 
green  or  pleasant  looking. 

Bevin  Hall,  the  residence  of  Amos  Braith- 
waite,  was  a  much  finer  place  than  the  situation 
warranted.  It  had  been  built  centuries  before 
mills  had  been  dreamt  of.  Then  the  lonely 
mansions  had  been  the  homes  of  country 
squires,  and  the  whole  valley  a  secluded  agri 
cultural  locality.  When  the  spinners  began  to 
build  mills  on  the  banks  of  the  stream,  and  the 
quarrymen  to  break  up  the  hill  sides,  then  the 
Bevins  abandoned  their  old  home,  and  Amos 
bought  the  place  at  what  he  considered  "a  varry 
low  figure." 

He  did  not  dislike  the  sight  of  the  smoking 


THE   OWNER   OF  BEVIN  MILL.  15 

mill.  He  thought,  when  the  hundreds  of  win- 
dows  in  its  five  stories  were  all  alight,  it  was  a 
really  grand  piece  of  architecture.  It  did  not 
trouble  him  that  the  agricultural  inhabitants, 
with  their  simple,  old-fashioned  manners  and 
customs,  were  obliged  to  make  way  for  the 
vivacious,  alert,  arrogant  mill  hands.  He  rather 
liked  matching  his  own  tongue  and  his  own  ar 
rogance  against  theirs.  He  had  been  an  opera 
tive,  he  knew  all  the  resentment  of  labor,  and 
he  often  told  himself  "  that  there  wasn't  varry 
much  they  could  say,  or  do,  he  wasn't  up  to." 

But  the  restless,  disputatious  life  did  not 
seem  to  Martha  Thrale  a  good  life.  She  knew 
how  often  Amos  and  his  hands  were  in 
open  and  very  vigorously  expressed  dissent. 
She  knew  that  their  good  will  was  merely  a 
cessation  of  hostilities,  and  when  Joe  expressed 
his  dislike  to  the  mill  work,  and  to  the  mill  it 
self,  with  its  stony  yard,  its  black  dust,  its  sul 
phury  clouds  of  smoke,  its  inky  water,  its  loath 
some  smells  of  heated  oil,  soap-suds,  and  cess 
pools,  Martha  was  in  sympathy  with  him,  and 
thought  his  reluctance  a  very  reasonable  one. 

How  Joe's  own  desires  were  to  be  gratified 
she  hardly  knew  ;  and  her  thoughts  at  this 


1 6  MASTER   OF  HIS  PATE. 

hour  brought  her  no  nearer  the  solving  of  the 
question  than  they  had  done  many  a  time  be 
fore.  But  there  was  at  least  no  great  hurry. 
Amos  had  talked  in  the  same  way  for  years. 
There  was  nothing  special  in  his  attitude.  She 
did  not  reflect  that  as  a  rule  tne  great  events  of 
life  dawn  with  no  rro«-e  note  of  preparation 
than  the  sun  rises. 


CHAPTER    II. 

JOE. 

Grief  seldom  joined  with  blooming  youth  is  seen  ; 
Can  sorrow  be,  where  knowledge  scarce  has  been  ? 

— ROWE, 

The  world's  a  wood  in  which  all  lose  their  way, 
Though  by  a  different  path  each  goes  astray. 
The  world's  a  labyrinth,  where  unguided  men 
Walk  up  and  down  to  find  their  weariness  ; 
No  sooner  have  they  measured  with  much  toil 
One  crooked  path,  in  hope  to  gain  their  freedom, 
But  it  betrays  them  to  a  new  affliction." 

— BEAUMONT. 

JOE  BRAITHWAITEwas  a  very  handsome 
young  fellow,  one  of  those  fresh,  blonde 
Englishmen  whose  magnificent  physique  and 
perfect  health  are  a  promissory  note  for  any 
amount  of  probable  success.  His  figure  was 
tall  and  spare,  his  aspect  strikingly  winning  and 
manly,  and  a  quick,  undaunted  spirit  looked 
out  of  his  clear  blue  eyes. 


1 8  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

With  a  slightly  poetic  temperament,  he  in 
herited  also  from  his  mother  a  love  of  elegant 
surroundings  and  a  disposition  to  take  life 
pleasantly.  But  such  tastes  were  not  domi 
nant  ;  the  gay,  pleasure-loving  young  man  had 
in  him  the  stuff  of  which  heroes  are  made,  indif 
ference  to  pain,  perfect  self-reliance,  indefatiga 
ble  perseverance,  and  a  simple  resolution,  which, 
when  it  was  called  into  action,  would  march 
straight  forward  through  fire  and  water  to  its 
goal. 

He  had  been  to  various  schools,  and  under 
various  teachers  learned  many  things  whose 
very  names  suggested  nothing  to  the  unlettered 
Amos.  Indeed,  the  father  had  rather  tolerated 
than  acquiesced  in  some  of  his  son's  studies;  and, 
perhaps  with  good  reason,  he  declared  that,  as 
regarded  Joe's  bringing  up,  "  he  had  been  bam 
boozled  by  a  parcel  o'  women  and  school 
masters."  And  yet,  when  Joe  quoted  Pliny  or 
Aristotle  with  an  air  of  "  that  settles  the  ques 
tion,"  or  rolled  out  a  couplet  of  musical,  though 
very  likely  imperfect  Greek,  as  an  illustration, 
the  old  man  had  a  certain  sense  of  pride  in  his 
clever  son,  although,  feeling  himself  to  be  in  a 
dark  and  unknown  territory,  he  answered 


JOE.  19 

only  with  a  doubtful  and  contemptuous 
"Humph!" 

In  Joe's  earliest  childhood,  the  practical 
father  had  given  strict  orders  regarding  "  fairy 
tales,  and  giants,  and  suchlike  lies  and  non 
sense."  But  to  say  that  his  aunt  and  nurse 
constantly  and  strictly  disobeyed  these  orders, 
is  only  to  say  that  they  were  women.  And 
one  Sunday  night,  when  Joe  was  seven  years 
old,  he  had  been  so  completely  dumfounded 
and  routed  upon  this  very  subject  that  it  was 
not  at  all  remarkable  he  should  prefer  avoid 
ing,  for  the  future,  any  allusion  to  personages 
«o  far  out  of  his  experience  and  knowledge. 

It  was  a  wet  Sunday  evening  in  spring  ; 
too  wet  to  walk  over  his  park  and  gardens, 
very  much  too  wet  to  permit  Martha  Thrale 
and  Joe  the  use  of  the  fine  carriage-horses  to 
carry  them  to  the  Wesleyan  chapel  a  mile 
away.  He  had  slept  all  he  could  ;  his  ledger 
was  at  the  mill ;  another  meal  was  out  of  the 
question  for  a  couple  of  hours  :  so  he  bethought 
himself  of  little  Joe  as  a  means  of  passing  the 
tedious  time. 

He  found  the  boy  at  his  aunt's  side.  She 
was  reading  to  him,  and  Joe's  bright,  hand- 


20  MASTER    OF  If  IS   FATE. 

some  face  expressed  nothing  but  delight  and 
wonder.  Amos  listened  also  for  a  few  minutes. 
It  was  a  marvellous  story  of  the  killing  of  a 
giant  by  a  little  lad  with  a  sling  and  a  stone. 
In  the  father's  opinion  it  was  an  altogether 
improbable  affray  ;  and  he  speedily  interrupted 
it,  saying,  with  an  angry  decision,  "  Hev  done, 
Martha  !  Hev  done  wi'  such  nonsense  !  Of 
all  t'  lies  that  iver  were  invented,  that  one  is  a 
topper,  I  sud  say." 

"  I'd  know  what  I  was  talking  about,  if  I 
was  thee,  Amos  Braithwaite.  I  reckon  to  do 
my  duty  by  t'  little  lad,  and  I'm  only  teaching 
him  his  Bible  lesson." 

Then  she  quietly  opened  the  Holy  Book  and 
placed  before  the  disconcerted  father  the 
objectionable  history.  He  was  troubled  and 
annoyed  by  the  circumstance.  Before  this 
untoward  confirmation  of  his  opinions,  he  had 
had  an  impression  that  the  Bible  was  a  book 
only  suitable  for  chapels  and  churches  and  the 
Sabbath  day  ;  and  after  it,  he  was  more  than 
ever  convinced  that  there  was  more  radical 
incompatibility  between  it  and  the  big  book 
vhich  lay  upon  the  high  desk  in  the  counting- 
room  of  Bevin  Mill. 


JOE. 


21 


When  Joe  began  to  go  to  school,  Amos 
soon  found  out  that  a  self-made  man  is  not  at 
all  points  a  match  for  a  self-willed  boy.  His 
positive  instructions  to  the  schoolmaster  had 
been,  "  Solid  reading,  writing,  arithmetic  and 
chemistry.  None  o*  your  rubbishy  Latin  and 
Greek  and  poetry."  But  the  school  was  not 
in  any  measure  dependent  upon  Amos  Braith- 
waite.  It  had  a  noble  foundation,  and  the 
master  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  vary  the 
prescribed  routine  to  meet  the  taste  of  one 
patron.  So  Joe's  inclinations  towards  poetry 
and  literature  were  fully  encouraged,  and  he 
took  some  prizes  in  the  very  studies  which  his 
father  had  forbidden. 

But  this  was  almost  a  venial  offence  com 
pared  with  the  audacity  of  Joe's  latest  prop 
osition,  to  bring  a  Frenchman  into  the  very 
parlors  of  Bevin  Hall,  in  order  that  he  might 
learn  to  speak  a  language  which  Amos  declared 
"  nobody  could  mak'  a  word  o'  sense  of,"  and 
which  he  always  associated  with  every  thing 
that  was  immoral  and  extravagant,  with  foppery 
and  atheism  and  anarchy. 

And  now  that  Martha  Thrale  had  actually 
set  herself  against  him,  he  felt  that  a  crisis  had 


22  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

come  in  the  relationship  between  himself  and 
his  son.  It  was  just  as  well,  he  thought ;  things 
long  undecided  would  now  be  brought  to  a 
settlement.  And  Amos  was  glad  of  it;  for, 
though  he  expected  trouble  and  opposition,  he 
was  prepared  to  meet  it  with  all  the  stubborn 
will  of  a  strong  but  narrow  mind. 

He  was  very  fond  of  Joe,  and,  in  an  unac 
knowledged  way,  very  proud  of  him.  Though 
he  would  not  have  admitted  it,  he  was  also 
vain  of  the  young  man's  beauty  and  stylish  air; 
and  whenever  Joe  strolled  into  his  presence 
with  his  thoroughly-at-ease,  satisfied  manner, 
Amos  always  looked  at  him  with  a  curious  mix 
ture  of  admiration  and  disapproval. 

Hitherto  there  had  been  no  serious  disagree 
ment  between  them,  for  Joe  had  shown  no  very 
decided  symptoms  of  rebellion.  There  had 
certainly  been  one  prolonged  dispute  about  his 
desire  to  go  to  Cambridge,  and  another  equally 
positive  when  he  requested  permission  to  travel 
for  two  years  ;  but  Amos  had  put  his  foot 
firmly  down  on  both  requests,  and  that  had 
been  the  end  of  them.  Joe  had  given  in  before, 
and  the  self-confident  father  did  not  think  he 


JOE.  23 

would  make  any  firmer  stand  about  any  other 
disputed  question. 

Still,  as  he  now  meant  to  make  his  son  a  pro- 
posal  which  was  to  decide  all  the  future  be 
tween  them,  he  was  unusually  nervous  about 
it,  especially  as  he  perceived  that  he  would 
have  no  support  from  Martha  Thrale.  He 
delayed  it  from  day  to  day  with  a  vacillation 
foreign  to  his  character  and  humiliating  to  his 
self-esteem. 

One  fine  spring  evening,  as  they  sat  at  dinner 
before  the  open  windows,  the  moment  of  de 
cision  arrived.  Neither  had  expected  nor  in 
any  special  way  provided  for  it  at  that  hour. 
It  arose  out  of  a  circumstance  and  from  a 
remark  which  seemed  irrelevant.  Martha 
Thrale  was  called  from  the  table  by  some 
unusual  domestic  event,  and  Joe's  first  remark 
related  to  a  pleasure  tour  which  a  friend  of  his 
had  in  contemplation. 

"  For  sure,"  answered  Amos,  "  young  Warps 
is  varry  rich,  and  he  can  afford  to  fling  his  brass 
and  his  time  away  among  foreigners,  if  he  has 
no  more  sense  than  to  do  so.  If  a  man  reckons 
to  spend  his  life  in  pleasuring  and  laking,  he 
had  best  do  it  while  he's  young,  for  he  won't 


24  MASTER  OF  HIS  FATE. 

get  much  out  o'  such  ways  when  he's  old.  So 
I  don't  say  Warps  is  wrong  if  that  is  what  he 
is  after.  But  there's  better  jobs  for  a  man  to 
do:  there's  good  work,  and  makin'  something 
of  t'  gifts  one  hes  for  getting  hold  o'  a  bit  of 
money — " 

"  But  you  would  make  life  a  drama  in  tvo 
acts,  father,  working  and  sleeping." 

"  I  don't  know  what  ta  means  by  makin'  life 
a  drama.  I'd  niver  do  it.  I  sud  think  it  would 
lead  one  into  all  sorts  o'  bother.  Young  Warps, 
and  owd  Warps,  too,  look  over  us  a  bit,  1  fancy; 
but  we  can  put  as  much  brass  down  as  any  of 
them,  I  dare  say;  ay,  Joe,  as  any  of  them." 

"Young  Warps  is  a  very  good  sort,  I  think." 

"  T'  owd  man  couldn't  see  me  yesterday  ;  no, 
not  even  with  t'  help  o'  his  eye-glasses.  He 
looked  as  if  he  owned  both  sides  of  t'  street." 

"  They  have  had  more  than  a  little  trouble 
with  their  hands  lately." 

"  Serve  them  right,  too.  They  hev  allays 
got  some  fad  on  hand  about  'lifting  them  up/ 
and  makin'  gentlemen  and  ladies  of  born  hands. 
When  a  cup  is  made  o'  common  pottery  you 
can't  turn  it  into  fine  Darby  china ;  and  it'll 
tak'  a  cleverer  man  than  owd  Warps  to  mak' 


JOE.  25 

gentlemen  o'  his  hands  by  persuading  them  to 
read  t'  poets." 

"  He  subscribed  £$oo  to  the  new  reading- 
room." 

"  Does  ta  think,  Joe,  I  hevn't  heard  tell  o' 
that  ?  Cwd  Warps  likes  to  show  himsen  his 
better  side  out,  and  that  is  why  he  gave  ^500; 
but  when  all  is  reckoned  up,  he'll  mebbe  not 
hev  given  as  much  as  other  folk.  I  gave  ^100, 
but  best  givers  are  them  as  hev  to  pinch  them- 
sens  a  bit  to  spare  aught ;  and  what  wi'  buying 
wool,  and  paying  wages,  I  hedn't  a  ^500  to 
spare;  I  hedn't  that.  Keep  your  sitting,  Joe." 
Then  he  pushed  the  wine  across  the  table,  and 
said,  "  Tak'  a  glass  with  me,  my  lad.  I  am  going 
to  mak'  thee  a  fine  offer,  and  we'll  drink  to  it." 

Joe  looked  steadily  at  his  father,  and  then 
slowly  filled  his  glass.  There  were  a  few  mo- 
ments  of  strained  silence,  then  he  asked, 

"What  is  it,  father?" 

"  I  wer'  thinking  that  thou  must  hev  hed 
enough  of  learning  by  this  time,  and  that  hap- 
pen  thou  would  like  to  frame  thysen  to  busi 
ness." 

"  I  am  not  likely  ever  to  have  enough  of 
learning,  father.  But  I  do  think  that  I  ought 


26  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

to  be  doing  something  like  work.  Why  !  I  am 
nearly  twenty-two  years  old." 

"To  be  sure  thou  art!  Varry  well,  then, 
when  will  ta  come  to  t'  mill  ?  There's  a  deal  for 
thee  to  get  at  thy  finger-ends,  for  I'd  like  thee 
to  know  t'  business  from  A  to  Z." 

"  I  was  not  thinking  of  the  mill,  father." 

"Oh!  Thou  wasn't  thinking  of  t'  mill. 
What  was  ta  thinking  of,  then  ?" 

"  I  was  thinking  of  the  law." 

"Thou  was  thinking  of  the  law,  was  ta? 
Think  away,  my  lad.  But  for  a*  thy  thinking 
thou  art  bound  to  take  thy  part  in  Market-Bev- 
in  Mill." 

"I  am  not  yet  bound  to  any  thing — or  to 
any  one,  for  that  matter.  I  have  made  up  my 
mind  to  be  a  lawyer.  I  hate  the  sight  of  the 
looms,  and  the  men  in  their  blue  pinafores,  and 
the  slatternly,  down-at-heel  women.  I  must  do 
some  better  work  than  that." 

"  I  hope  ta  may  !  —  I  hope  to  goodness  thou 
may !  But  I  don't  think  thou  will  iver  do  as 
good  work  as  I  hev  done.  Come,  Joe  ;  come, 
my  lad  !  Do  thy  duty  by  t'  business,  and  we 
will  varry  soon  hev  t'  biggest  mill  and  the 
highest  chimney  i'  Wharfdale." 


JOE.  27 

"  I  am  sorry  to  disappoint  you,  father." 

"  Why-a !  I  hev  been  thinking  o'  takin' 
thee  into  t'  mill  iver  since  I  laid  the  first  stone 
of  it,  Joe.  I  hev  thought  for  thee  and  worked 
for  thee  iver  since  thou  wert  born.  Thou  must 
go  to  t'  mill,  or  it  will  be  t'  worse  for  thee. 
Mind  that,  my  lad  ;  for  I  am  in  downright 
earnest." 

"  So  am  I,  sir." 

The  threat  had  decided  Joe.  The  proposal 
had  found  him  in  a  contradictious,  self-willed 
temper,  and  the  half  menace  was  just  the  thing 
he  would  not  stand.  In  the  moment,  without 
thought,  without  any  real  inclination,  he  had 
said  he  would  be  a  lawyer,  and  now  he  was  de 
termined  to  stand  to  the  statement,  whatever 
the  result  might  be. 

Both  men  became  steadily  more  and  •  more 
positive  and  angry.  Amos  had  risen  and  taken 
his  favorite  position  on  the  hearth-rug.  Joe, 
reclining  in  a  large  chair,  picked  his  teeth,  and 
looked  quite  away  from  his  irate  father.  One 
would  have  supposed  that  all  his  interests  were 
connected  with  the  lilacs  and  laburnums  blow 
ing  at  the  open  window. 

"I    sail    make   thee   one    more    offer,"  said 


*S  MASTER   '~)F  HIS  FATE. 

Amos,  at  length;  '  if  thou  refuses  it  I  sail 
niver,  niver  moro  Onsider  thee  to  hev  part  or 
lot  in  my  mill.  Next  Monday  come  to  t''  mill. 
I'll  give  the£  ^500  a  year,  and  if  all  is  as  it 
should  be,  at  the  end  of  three  years  I'll  give 
thee  a  sixth  interest.  Then  thou  can  marry 
and  make  a  man  o'  thysen." 

"  You  intend  to  be  very  good  to  me,  father." 

"  I  do  that,  Joe.  Think  well,  my  lad,  afore 
thou  speaks.  Thou  knows  well  that  I'll  niver 
go  back  on  aily  word  I  say." 

"  If  I  feiJ  obliged  to  refuse  your  offer,  father, 
then — " 

"Then,  I  will  give  thee  ^"5,000.  Thou  can 
mak'  or  mar  with  it,  as  suits  thy  fancy.  That 
is  a'  I  have  to  say." 

"  I  will  take  the  ^"5,000,  father." 

"Thou  sail  hev  it  to-morrow  morning. 
Don't  'ee  think  that  I  sail  iver  ask  thee 
again." 

"  Dear  father  !  " 

"  Nay-a,  nay-a  !  Thou  needn't  dear  me  now. 
Yes,  father,  would  have  been  more  son-like, 
and  more  to  the  purpose.  I  hev  been  a  bit 
soft  about  thee,  but  I  can  mend  that — I  can 
mend  that." 


JOE.  29 

"  Every  man  has  a  right,  father,  to  choose 
his  own  life-work." 

"  Nowt  of  t'  sort !  Them  as  does  it  mostly 
mak's  a  pretty  mess  o'  their  life-work.  Thy 
work  is  ready  at  thy  hands.  It  is  flying  in  t* 
face  of  Providence  to  think  thou  can  lay  any 
better  out  for  thysen." 

"A  man  finds  out  things  by  experience — by 
trying." 

"  If  ta  likes  that  way,  tak'  it.  But  remem 
ber  this :  if  ta  thinks  of  heving  thy  awn  way, 
until  ivery  thing  is  at  sixes  and  sevens  wi'  thee, 
and  then  thinks  thou  can  turn  round  and  tak' 
my  way,  thou  will  find  thysen  a  bit  mistaken." 

"  I  shall  never  ask  you  for  any  thing  but  what 
you  choose  to  give  me,  father." 

"  I  told  thee  I  would  give  thee  £5,000.  Thou 
can  do  whativer  ta  likes  with  it." 

"  I  shall  enter  myself  to  read  with  Perkins." 

"  Do  as  ta  likes ;  do  as  ta  likes.  What  ta 
does  will  be  naught  to  me." 

Then  Amos  threw  his  red  bandanna  handker 
chief  over  his  head,  settled  himself  in  his  chair, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  seemed  to  be  asleep. 
But  sleep  was  far  from  him.  Tears  come  as 
hard  as  blood  from  some  men,  and  Amos  was 


3°  MASTER    OF  HIS  FATE. 

of  this  class.  Yet  great,  bitter  tears  rolled 
slowly  down  his  rugged  face  that  evening,  tears 
which  the  bandanna  hid,  but  which  no  human 
hand  could  wipe  away.  Never  before  in  all 
his  struggling,  successful  life  had  he  felt  such 
sharp  sorrow,  such  keen  disappointment.  For 
he  had  not  realized  until  that  hour  how  dear 
his  son  was  to  him,  how  inextricably  bound 
up  in  all  his  hopes  and  happiness. 

And  he  had  said  words  he  never  could  un 
say.  Indeed,  the  possibility  of  unsaying  them 
never  presented  itself  to  him.  It  might  kill 
him  to  "stick  up  "  to  the  threat  he  had  made  ; 
all  the  same,  he  knew  that  he  should  stand  to 
every  letter  of  it.  And  he  expected  nothing 
less  from  Joe.  He  would  almost  have  despised 
him  if  he  had  returned  and  asked  to  be  allowed 
to  accept  his  offer.  To  back  out  of  a  position 
once  taken  is  a  thing  few  Yorkshiremen  can 
contemplate,  and  both  father  and  son  under 
stood  that  the  few  positive  words  said  that 
night  had  separated  their  paths  forever. 

Joe  went  at  once  to  his  aunt,  and  told  her 
of  his  interview  and  its  result.  She  did  not 
fully  sympathize  with  him. 

"  Thou  hes  been  in  too  big  a  hurry,  Joe," 


JOE.  31 

she  said.  "  If  thou  hed  taken  a  more  round 
about  road  to  thy  awn  way,  thou  would  hev 
gotten  it  all  the  sooner,  lad,  thou  would  that. 
Now,  then,  thou  hes  flung  away  about  half  a 
million  o'  money,  what  is  ta  going  to  do  with 
thy  £$,ooo?  Thou,  that  hes  hed  every  thing 
to  come  and  tak'  from." 

"  I  never  had  more  than  £300  a  year." 
"  Hey  !  but  thou  counts  things  varry  care 
lessly.  Thou  hed  £300  a  year  for  pocket- 
money,  Joe,  only  for  pocket  money.  Thou 
wilt  hev  to  find  thy  awn  bed  and  board  now. 
Thou  wilt  hev  to  pay  thy  own  tailor's  bills, 
and  many  another  bill  beside.  And  thou  knows 
well,  Joe,  that  I  hevn't  t'  ways  and  t'  means  to 
help  thee  much." 

Joe  was  fond  of  luxuries,  and  this  view  of 
the  question  had  not  presented  itself  before. 
Yet  it  was  evident  he  would  have  to  leave  his 
father's  house.  He  would  have  to  take  upon 
himself  the  cares  of  life  and  living.  The 
thought  sobered  him  considerably.  He  wished 
in  his  heart  that  he  had  not  been  so  ready  to 
fling  away  half  a  million  of  money;  but  he 
kept  his  lips  tightly  drawn  for  fear  he  should 
give  utterance  to  the  regretful  thought. 


32  MASTER    OF  HIS  FATE. 

As  he  sat  half-stupefied  by  this  sudden 
change  in  his  fortunes,  he  looked  gloomily 
round  his  handsome  rooms,  and  wondered  how 
much  it  would  cost  to  rent  others  in  any  way 
approaching  them  in  comfort.  Then  he  took 
a  piece  of  paper,  and  jotted  down  the  out 
standing  bills  in  his  name,  and  they  made  a 
total  which  compelled  him  to  realize  the 
amount  of  his  expenditure  as  he  had  never 
done  before.  Even  taking  into  account  the 
natural  hopefulness  of  youth,  it  must  be  ad 
mitted  that  Joe  Braithwaite  did  not  spend  a 
much  happier  night  than  his  father  did. 


CHAPTER  III. 

A   GREAT   CHANGE. 

Whose  fortune  is  not  fitted  to  his  will, 
Too  great  or  little,  is  uneasy  still. 

Fortune  is  a  goddess  only  to  fools  ;    the  wise  are   always 

masters  of  their  own. 

— DRYDEN. 

The  noisy  markets  of  the  law, 
The  camp  of  gowned  war. 

— CoWLEY. 

AMOS  and  his  son  met  in  the  morning  with 
more  ceremony  than  Joe  intended  or 
desired.  In  fact,  there  was  both  sorrow  and 
some  thoughts  of  surrender  in  his  heart  when 
he  said,  "Good-morning,  father." 

"  Good-morning,  sir.  Take  a  cup  o'  coffee, 
and  then  we  will  finish  that  bit  o'  business  we 
began  last  night." 

The  cool,  civil  greeting  hurt  Joe  far  worse 
than  either  angry  reproaches  or  angry  silence 
could  have  done.  Not  once  during  the  meal 


34  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

did  he  utter  the  young  man's  familiar  name. 
It  was  no  longer  Joe,  and  the  substitution  of 
the  word  sir  was  too  marked  to  escape  notice. 
It  was  a  very  wretched  meal,  and  soon  over. 
Then  Amos  took  a  cheque  from  his  pocket, 
and  laying  it  down  by  Joe's  side,  said,  "  Tak' 
that  bit  o  paper  to  Thornton.  He'll  give  thee 
its  value  in  Bank  o'  England  notes." 

"  Thank  you,  father." 

"  Eh  !  but  thou  would  hev  been  welcomer  to 
a  hundred  times  as  much  if  ta  would  nobbut 
hev  stood  by  my  side  while  I  wer'  living,  and 
in  my  shoes  when  I  wer'  dead.  But  when  a 
bird  hes  found  out  as  one  nest  won't  do  for  it, 
happen  it's  right  to  mak'  itsen  another.  Good 
bye,  sir." 

"  Father  !     Don't  leave  me  in  that  way." 

"  Dal  it,  lad  !  T'  way  is  good  enough  for  t* 
occasion.  Ingratitude  and  disobedience  seem 
to  be  rooted  in  children,  and  what  is  bred  in 
them  is  none  easy  to  get  out.  Well,  well, 
things  being  as  they  are,  I  may  as  well  tak'  to 
them  at  once." 

Martha  Thrale  had  not  appeared  at  the 
breakfast  table.  She  had  a  sharp  tongue,  and 
was  ready  to  use  it,  and  she  feared  to  make  bad 


A    GREAT  CHANGE.  35 

worse  by  some  inappropriate  remark,  which 
would  irritate  her  brother-in-law  and  call  forth 
Joe's  championship.  She  hoped,  if  left  to 
themselves,  some  compromise  would  be  arrived 
at,  or,  at  least,  that  the  parting  might  be  made 
with  a  more  kindly  and  hopeful  tone  for  the 
future. 

And  with  that  pitiful  instinct  of  womanhood 
which  has  learned  to  appeal  to  a  man's  lower 
sensibilities,  she  had  prepared  with  care  the 
breakfast  dishes  Amos  particularly  liked,  had 
seen  that  the  room  wore  its  pleasantest  aspect, 
and  that  every  trifling  circumstance  should  be 
conducive  to  a  mood  of  satisfaction. 

Amos  took  no  note  of  any  of  these  small 
attentions.  Had  one  of  them  been  neglected, 
he  would  probably  have  called  the  whole  house 
to  task  for  the  omission ;  but  the  comforts 
ready  to  his  hand  he  seemed  to  be  unconscious 
of.  And  Joe  was  too  anxious  to  notice  any 
thing  beyond  his  father's  stubborn  coldness  and 
his  aunt's  absence.  There  was  also  a  feeling 
in  his  heart  that  this  was  the  last  meal  he  would 
ever  eat  in  Bevin  Hall,  and  that  it  was  a  very 
unhappy  one. 

Amos  left  the  table  first.     He  took  off  his 


3  6  MASTER   OF  HIS  FA7'E. 

slippers,  tossed  them  across  the  hearthrug,  and 
laced  his  mill  boots  with  trembling  but  deliber. 
ate  hands.  He  had  no  more  to  say  to  Joe  ; 
and  he  seemed  to  feel  his  presence  an  annoy 
ance.  It  was  not  difficult  for  Joe  to  be  aware 
of  this  sentiment,  and  the  young  man  said,  "  I 
am  only  waiting  for  Aunt  Martha,  father.  I  will 
not  trouble  you  any  longer  than  is  necessary." 

"  That  is  as  it  sud  be.  When  two  can't  hit 
on,  why,  then,  t'  sooner  they  part  t'  better  for 
t'both  o'  them." 

Then  he  lifted  his  head,  stamped  his  feet  well 
down  into  his  boots,  and  taking  the  morning 
paper  from  the  table,  turned  to  leave  the  room. 
Joe  intercepted  him,  and  said,  "  Shake  hands, 
father,  at  any  rate." 

But  he  turned  his  back  squarely  on  Joe's 
offered  hand.  He  would  not  see  the  tears  in 
his  son's  eyes  or  the  anxiety  on  his  face.  He 
hurried  out  of  the  room  and  the  house,  and 
spoke  to  the  waiting  coachman  in  a  voice  that 
made  the  man  wonder  what  was  coming  next. 

Martha  understood  his  manner  only  too  well. 
She  perceived  at  once  that  her  little  plans  and 
hopes  were  a  failure.  As  soon  as  Amos  was 
clear  of  the  house  she  went  to  her  nephew, 


A    GREAT  CHANGE.  37 

though  she  was  not  pleased  with  him  for  the 
hurry  and  decision  of  the  attitude  he  had  taken. 
Why  had  he  not  waited  a  little,  compromised 
a  little,  given  up  a  little,  as  a  son  should  have 
done  to  a  good  father  ? 

But  she  was  determined  to  stand  by  Joe — 
right  or  wrong,  she  meant  to  stand  by  him. 
Her  love  for  the  lad,  and  her  promise  to  her 
sister,  included  all  the  devotion  she  understood 
by  "  standing  with "  any  person  or  principle. 
And  Joe  very  soon  made  her  see  things  very 
much  as  he  saw  them.  She  looked  into  the 
young  fellow's  handsome  face  and  tearful  eyes, 
and  "  wondered  however  his  father  could  bide 
to  turn  his  back  on  such  a  son."  She  thought 
his  refusal  to  shake  hands  with  Joe  "  a  shame 
ful  bit  o'  pride  and  hard-hearted  cruelty."  She 
came  very  speedily  to  the  opinion  that  "  Amos 
had  no  right  to  offer  up  his  son's  life,  as  well  as 
his  own,  to  the  welfare  of  Bevin  Mill,  a  big, 
smoking  monster  as  it  is  !  "  She  added,  angrily, 
"  Wife  and  child  might  feed  t'  fires  that  keep 
it  going  rather  than  he'd  see  it  stop.  Joe,  my 
lad,  thou  art  right  in  t'  main,  and  I'll  stand  up 
for  thee  through  thick  and  thin.  Whatever  is 
ta  going-  to  do  now?  " 


38  MASTER    OF  HIS  FATE. 

"  I  shall  take  some  rooms  in  Market-Bevin, 
and  read  law  with  Perkins." 

"  Varry  good,  if  Perkins  will  have  thee." 

"No  fear  of  that,  Aunt  Martha.  I  shall 
have  a  good  bit  of  money  to  pay  him,  no  doubt ; 
but  I  should  have  to  pay  a  stranger  the  same. 
I  am  none  fond  of  strangers." 

"  Thou  might  happen  find  thysen  better  off 
among  strangers." 

"  Market-Bevin  is  my  native  town.  I  won't 
let  father  think  he  can  turn  me  out  of  it  as 
well  as  out  of  his  own  house." 

"Thy  father  is  a  big  man  in  Market-Bevin. 
Thou  won't  find  it  easy  to  live  there  if  he  sets 
himself  against  it." 

'4  Why  should  he  ?  Studying  law  with  Per 
kins  is  not  a  crime,  I  hope." 

"  Mebbe  not ;  go  and  see  Perkins.  I  think 
he'll  open  thy  eyes  a  bit.  And  then,  if  ta 
wants  rooms,  go  to  Ann  Guiseley's  ;  she  hes 
some  to  rent,  and  she'll  cook  thy  victuals  as 
they  sud  be  cooked,  for  I  taught  her  mysen." 

"  When  will  you  come  and  see  me  ?  " 

"  I'll  hev  a  talk  wi'  thy  father  when  he  comes 
from  t'  mill  to-night ;  and  I'll  let  thee  knowalJ 
about  it  as  quick  as  iver  I  can." 


A    GREAT  CHANGE.  39 

"Then  I  will  go  and  talk  with  Perkins  at 
once;  for  I  could  see  that  father  does  not  want 
me  here  any  longer.  And  this  afternoon  I 
will  remove  my  clothes  and  books  and  such 
trifles  as  are  really  mine." 

It  might  be  thought  that  a  young  man  among 
life-long  friends,  and  with  .£5,000  in  his  pock 
ets,  would  find  an  open  door  into  life.  But 
Joe's  first  experience  was  not  a  flattering  one. 
Perkins  was  in  when  he  called,  but  he  kept 
Joe  waiting  in  his  outer  office  until  every  par 
ticle  of  his  enthusiasm  and  self-reliance  seemed 
to  have  evaporated. 

And  when  he  heard  of  the  quarrel  between 
father  and  son  he  became  very  cold  and  cau 
tious.  It  was  by  no  means  to  his  advantage 
to  put  himself  in  opposition  to  Amos.  The 
master  of  Bevin  Mill  was  of  an  extremely  litig 
ious  temper,  and  had  for  many  years  been  the 
source  of  a  considerable  yearly  income  to  Per 
kins,  and  was  likely  to  continue  to  be  so.  The 
whole  of  Joe's  £$,ooo  would  not  have  bribed 
him  to  find  a  vacancy  in  his  office.  He  even 
turned  mentor,  deprecated  the  step  Joe  had 
taken,  and  advised  him,  as  a  friend,  to  go  back 
to  his  father  and  make  his  peace  with  him. 


4°  MASTER  OF  HIS  FATE. 

"  He  is  a  bit  masterful,  ivery  body  knows 
that,  Joe,"  said  Perkins,  with  a  smile  he  meant 
to  be  conciliatory  ;  "  but  if  two  men  ride  t'  same 
horse,  one  must  ride  behind ;  and  that  is  thy 
place,  Joe." 

"  Unless  I  ride  my  own  horse." 

"  For  sure !  Only,  thou  will  need  a  varry 
strong  nag  to  carry  thee  where  ta  wants  to  go. 
Put  up  wi'  thy  father  a  bit,  lad.  He  hes  got- 
ten  that  used  to  telling  folk  they  must  do  this, 
and  they  mustn't  do  that,  that  he  thinks  t'  varry 
stars  sud  do  as  he  bids  'em." 

"  But,  Perkins,  I  am  a  man  now — I  have  a 
right  to  my  own  opinions." 

"A  pity  on  thee,  Joe!  If  ta  can't  learn  to 
smile  as  t'  wind  smiles,  thou  wilt  varry  soon 
take  cold,  ay,  varry  soon  take  cold.  Well,  a 
good-morning  to  thee.  I'm  particular  busy 
at  present." 

Thus  Joe  got  his  first  rebuff  from  a  stranger. 
He  felt  it  hard  to  bear.  Angry  and  humilia 
ted,  he  talked  over  the  interview  with  Aunt 
Martha  in  no  reasonable  mood,  and  as  Perkins 
was  also  one  of  her  aversions  she  gave  Joe  per 
haps  an  unwise  amount  of  sympathy. 

Besides,  it  nearly  broke  her  heart  to  see  him 


A   GRE 'A  7'  CHANGE.  41 

packing  his  trunks,  "  turned  out  o'  house  and 
home  just  because  he  couldn't  frame  himsen 
to  give  his  life  to  t'  mill."  And  when  Joe 
had  really  gone  away,  when  his  room  was  left 
desolate  and  dismantled,  she  sat  down  in  it, 
and  wept  bitterly. 

"  I'll  niver  stop  here  any  longer,"  she  mut 
tered.  "  T'  light  of  t'  house  hes  been  put  out. 
It  hes  been  slave  and  save,  and  worry  and 
fret  and  bide  his  tempers,  and  do  his  bid 
ding  for  twenty-four  years.  That  is  about 
long  enough  for  any  woman  to  put  up  wi'  him. 
I  promised  Ann  that  I  would  stick  by  Joe, 
and  I  am  going  to  stick  by  Joe.  I'll  not  hear 
a  word  wrong  of  Joe  v from  anybody;  and 
Amos  will  find  that  out  sooner  than  he  thinks 
for." 

All  day  long  her  fits  of  crying  were  inter 
rupted  by  such  communions  and  conversations 
with  herself.  Amos  never  suspected  such  a 
state  of  feeling.  On  the  contrary,  he  was  cer 
tain  that  he  would  at  least  have  Martha  Thrale's 
sympathy ;  for  he  knew  that  she  had  always 
been  opposed  to  any  plan  which  would  take 
Joe  permanently  from  under  her  care. 

So  he  was  glad  when  the  day  was  over.     It 


42  MASTER    OF  HIS  FATE. 

had  been,  perhaps,  one  of  the  most  wretched 
in  his  whole  life.  Among  the  clatter  and  clash 
of  a  thousand  looms  he  had  not  been  able  to 
forget  his  sorrow,  even  though  the  hands  had 
given  him  unusual  opportunities  of  relieving 
his  irritation.  But  the  weariest  day  comes  to 
a  close,  and  he  stood,  at  last,  outside  the  mill 
gates,  holding  the  big  keys  in  his  hand,  and 
vacantly  watching  the  groups  of  chattering 
lads  and  lasses  strolling  over  the  moor  to  their 
homes. 

A  strange  reluctance  to  go  to  his  own  home 
was  in  his  heart.  He  had  no  need  to  inquire 
of  it.  He  knew  that  he  dreaded  the  lonely 
dinner-table  ;  for  Martha  Thrale,  in  the  way  of 
men's  talk,  he  counted  as  nobody.  He  had 
always  conversed  with  Joe  about  politics,  about 
the  local  spinners  and  manufacturers,  their 
ways  and  doings,  their  trade  and  their  solvency, 
their  gains  and  losses.  He  did  not  call  it  gos 
sip,  but  it  was  the  talk  in  which  he  delighted ; 
for  he  considered  that  other  people's  business 
might  have  a  good  deal  to  do  with  his  own. 

Several  things  had  happened  that  day  which, 
in  the  usual  course  of  events,  he  would  have 
enjoyed  discussing  with  Joe.  Then  he  recog- 


A    GREAT   CHANGE.  43 

nized  with  fresh  anger  that  not  only  in  the 
mill,  but  also  in  his  home  pleasures,  Joe's  diso 
bedience  was  a  grievous  curtailment  of  his  life. 
So  when  he  saw  Martha's  red  and  swollen  eyes 
he  had  a  moment's  regret  even  for  her. 

"  No  wonder  thou  hes  been  crying,  lass,"  he 
said  ;  "  it's  enough  to  mak'  thee  cry.  After  a' 
thou  hes  done  for  him,  too  !  Whativer  does  ta 
think  of  his  ways  !  It  caps  a'  I  iver  heard  tell 
of!" 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  flashing  eyes. 

"  I  hev  been  thinking  o'  thy  conduct  all  day, 
Amos  ;  and  I'm  bound  to  say  I  think  thee  a 
godless,  heartless  old  man  as  iver  was." 

"  Why-a  !    Martha  !  " 

"  I  do.  And  thou  needn't  frown  at  me,  for 
it's  true — true  as  gospel.  When  did  thou  iver 
love  aught  but  gold  ?  Thou  let  my  poor  sister 
die  without  one  word  o'  love  or  regret.  I  sent 
to  t'  mill  and  told  thee  she  wer*  dying  one  day, 
and  thou  wert  too  busy  to  come.  Thou  niver 
did  aught  to  win  thy  poor  boy's  confidence  and 
respect,  and  now,  to  top  ivery  thing,  thou  turns 
him  out  into  t'  streets.  Poor  lad  !  Poor  Joe  !  " 

"  Dost  ta  think  that  nobody  suffers  but  thee 
and  Joe  ?  I  hev  some  feelings  too,  I  reckon." 


44  MASTER   UF  I-JIS  FATE. 

"  Not  thou  !  And  if  ta  hes,  don't  thee  come 
to  me  for  comfort  or  sympathy.  I  hev  none 
for  thee.  Go  to  thy  money  bags.  Thou  hes 
sacrificed  ivery  thing  for  them.  And  if  ta  does 
not  repent  varry  soon,  thou  wilt  die  wicked  and 
alone !  " 

"Martha  Thrale,  will  ta  stop?  Hes  ta  lost 
thy  senses,  lass  ?  " 

"  No,  I'll  not  stop  till  I  hev  lied  my  say ; 
thou  wilt  die,  Amos,  without  a  kind  hand  to 
close  thy  greedy  old  eyes,  that  hev  niver  looked 
up  to  heaven,  nor  a  bit  higher  than  t'  top  o' 
thy  mill  chimney.  That  is  what  I  think  o' 
thee,  Amos  Braithwaite." 

"  Thou  isn't  thy  own  sel'  at  all,  Martha. 
Thou  art  sick,  my  lass." 

"  I  am  better  ivery  way  than  thou  art  ;  and 
when  thou  comes  to  die,  thou'lt  be  forced  to 
leave  ivery  penny  o'  thy  brass  behind  thee — 
ivery  penny  of  it,  Amos,  and  go  where  money 
is  of  no  account  at  all." 

"  Hev  done  wi'  thee,  Martha.  Hes  ta  lost 
thy  senses  ?  Whativer  dost  ta  want  ? 

"  I  want  thee  to  do  summat  to  bring 
back  thy  only  child  before  it  be  past  thy 
doing." 


A    GREAT  CHANGE.  45 

"  I'll  not  lift  a  finger  to  bring  him  back. 
Not  I." 

"  Varry  well  then,  thou  wilt  hev  to  tak'  t* 
consequences." 

"Ay,  I'll  tak'  them." 

"  My  sister  Ann— 

"  Let  thy  sister  Ann  alone;  and  mind  this? 
I'll  not  hev  Joe  Braithwaite's  name  spoken  in 
my  house  by  thee  nor  by  any  ither  body. 
And  I'll  marry  again  if  I  want  to.  And  I'll 
hev  such  friendship  as  is  going  these  days.  If 
Joe  Braithwaite  can  do  without  me,  I  can  do 
without  him,  varry  well,  indeed  !  Why-a  !  I  hev 
made  half  a  million  o'  money,  or  near  by  it,  and 
I  hev  made  mysen  a  man." 

"  For  sure  thou  hes,  and  a  right  mean  job 
thou  hes  made  o'  thysen.  When  thou  was  at 
it,  thou  might  hev  done  it  a  bit  better,  I  think. 
There  is  varry  little  reason  to  crack  up  thy 
cloth,  if  ta  mak's  it  no  better  than  thou  hes 
made  thysen.  And  what  is  half-a-million  o' 
money  ?  I'll  warrant  our  Joe  will  mak'  more 
than  that  before  he  is  thy  age." 

"  Thou  wilt  hev  to  leave  my  house  if  ta  goes 
on  this-a-way  !  " 

"  I  am  going  to  leave  it.     Does  ta  think  I 


46  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

would  stop  wi'  thee,  and  poor  Joe  driven  into 
t'  street  ?  If  I  did,  I  would  be  a  disgrace  to 
mysen,  and  to  all  t'  Thrales,  living  or  dead. 
And  thou  can  pay  me  my  wages  this  varry 
hour  if  ta  likes,  for  I'm  fain  to  get  out  o'  thy 
house." 

"  Does  ta  mean  what  ta  says?  " 

"Yes,  I  do  that." 

"  Then  get  thee  ready  and  go.  I  hevn't  such 
a  thing  as  a  favor  to  ask  of  thee." 

So  that  evening,  as  Joe  sat  very  disconso 
lately  in  Ann  Guiseley's  best  parlor,  he  was 
joined  by  Martha  Thrale.  She  came  in  about 
eight  o'clock,  flushed  and  excited,  and  still 
trembling  from  her  unusual  interview  with 
Amos.  This  sudden  and  violent  breaking  of 
the  last  tie  between  himself  and  his  father 
affected  Joe  very  much.  He  was  almost 
inclined  to  blame  Martha  for  her  want  of 
patience. 

"  If  you  had  stopped  beside  him,  I  should 
have  had  some  one  to  say  a  good  word  for  me," 
he  said,  reproachfully. 

"  Ay,  lad  ;  but  why,  then,  didn't  thou  stop 
and  say  thy  own  good  words  ?  " 

"  What  shall  I  do,  Aunt  Martha  ?  ' 


A    GREA  T   CHANGE.  47 

"  Here  is  Ann  Guiseley  coming  wi"  a  cup  o' 
tea  for  me,  and  much  I  need  it  ;  while  I  drink 
it  I'll  tell  thee  what  I  think.  It's  plain  that 
Josiah  Perkins  does  not  want  thee." 

"  He  is  afraid  to  offend  my  father  ;  and  I 
daresay  that  every  one  in  Market-Bevin  will 
feel  very  much  as  Perkins  does." 

"  It's  more  than  likely.  Well,  then,  I  am 
going  to  Leeds.  I  shall  take  a  house  and 
furnish  it,  and  let  such  of  t'  rooms  as  I  don't 
want.  There's  Halifax  Brothers,  lawyers,  in 
Leeds.  I  reckon  as  they  hev  as  good  a  name 
as  old  Perkins." 

This  suggestion  pleased  Joe  very  much.  It 
took  him  out  of  the  immediate  neighborhood 
of  his  father,  and  yet  was  not  far  enough  away 
from  his  life  centre  to  give  him  a  feeling  of 
loneliness  or  remoteness.  In  all  its  phases  the 
plan  was  thoroughly  discussed  between  them 
that  night,  for  Martha  was  a  woman,  not  only 
of  rapid  thought,  but  also  of  rapid  action. 
Within  a  month  she  had  a  very  handsome 
home  in  Leeds,  and  Joe  had  been  properly 
articled  to  Halifax  Brothers,  solicitors. 

There  was  no  law  firm  in  the  West  Riding 
that  had  a  higher  reputation  in  civil  cases 


48  MASTER    OF  HIS  FATE. 

requiring  a  shrewd  cleverness  just  touching 
something  that  might  be  called  by  a  less  respec 
table  name.  But  if  Amos  Braithwaite  had 
wished  his  son  to  be  a  lawyer,  then  Halifax 
Brothers  would  have  been  the  ideal  masters  at 
whose  feet  he  would  have  desired  him  to  sit. 

When  he  heard  from  Perkins  where  Joe  had 
placed  himself,  he  felt  a  real  sentiment  of 
respect  for  his  son. 

"  It's  a  move  as  might  hev  been  expected  o' 
my  son,"  he  said.  "  T'  lad  is  no  fool ;  and  if 
he  wants  to  make  his  brass  by  ither  folks' 
cheatry  and  quarrelling,  there's  nobody  i'  York 
shire  that  could  better  teach  him  to  steal  by 
line  and  level  than  Tom  Halifax  can," 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THUS   RUNS   THE   WORLD   AWAY. 

in  unseen  hand  makes  all  our  moves  ; 
A.nd  some  are  great,  and  some  are  small, 
Nor  kings,  nor  nations,  nor  united  power, 
One  moment  can  retard  an  appointed  hour. 

—  COWLEY. 

Or.  what  strange  grounds  we  build  our  hopes  and  fears  ! 
JSjins  life  is  all  a  mist,  and  in  the  dark 
Our  fortunes  meet  us. 

— DRYDEN. 

IT  was  true  that  in  his  sudden  determination 
to  become  a  lawyer,  Joe  had  pleased  Martha 
as  little  as  he  had  pleased  his  father.  For  if 
Amos  had  wished  to  place  his  son  among  the 
nobles  of  the  Bradford  House  of  Woollen  Lords, 
Martha  had  had  her  dreams  of  seeing  her 
nephew  hold  forth  to  admiring  thousands  from 
a  Wesleyan  pulpit. 

But  Joe,  as  he  grew  to  manhood,  drew  away 
from  the  chapel,  and  affected  to  entirely  dis 
approve  of  Methodist  faith  and  discipline. 


5°  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

His  disagreements  with  his  aunt  on  this  sub 
ject  had  privately  given  Amos  much  amuse 
ment.  He  enjoyed  this  form  of  Joe's  dissent, 
and  was  accustomed  to  say,  "  Joe,  and  ivery 
other  lad  wi'  his  common-senses,  ought  to  hev 
perfect  freedom  of  opinion.  That  was  t'  varry 
spirit  o'  dissent,  and  if  Joe  was  a  dissenter, 
then  he  wanted  him  to  know  '  t'  ifs  and  t'  ands/ 
and  't'  ins  and  t'  outs'  of  t'  chapel  he  went  to. 
He  was  a  Church  o'  England  man  himsen,  but 
he  hed  nowt  to  say  against  his  son  being  a 
dissenter  if  t'  lad  liked  following  his  aunt 
instead  o'  his  father." 

So  no  one  could  deny  that  in  religious  mat 
ters  Amos  was  grandly  tolerant.  It  was  in 
business  affairs  he  regarded  dissent  as  an 
unpardonable  offence.  Joe's  right  of  private 
judgment  stopped  at  Bevin  Mill.  Martha's 
views  were  essentially  different.  She  thought 
Joe's  wealth  and  position  gave  him  splendid 
opportunities  for  honoring  the  cause  and  the 
connection  she  loved.  She  did  not  think  he 
was  doing  right  to  evade  the  responsibilities  of 
his  birth.  But  she  was  quite  ready  to  support 
him  in  his  refusal  to  offer  up  his  life  to  the 
advancement  of  Bevin  Mill. 


THUS  RUNS    THE    WORLD  A  WAV.          51 

Consequently,  when  he  suddenly  declared  his 
intention  to  be  a  lawyer,  Amos  and  Martha, 
both  alike,  suffered  a  keen  disappointment, 
only  Amos  allowed  it  to  canker  his  whole  life,, 
without  let  or  hindrance,  or  future  hope,  and 
Martha  accepted  the  inevitable,  and  tried  to 
make  the  best  of  it.  For  it  is  characteristic  of 
good  women  that  when  they  cannot  get  what 
they  want  they  try  to  be  pleased  with  what 
they  can  get. 

Martha  did  her  best  to  accept  the  law  and 
Tom  Halifax,  though  she  by  no  means  ap. 
proved  of  Tom  Halifax.  Hitherto  she  had 
only  known  him  by  report,  as  a  shrewd  lawyer, 
whose  legal  fencing  and  clever  repartees  were 
the  popular  after-dinner  talk  of  farmers  and 
business  men.  But  he  took  that  sudden  and 
warm  liking  for  Joe  which  middle-aged,  gay 
bachelors  often  take  for  handsome  young  men. 
He  was  dissatisfied  without  his  society,  and 
eager  to  initiate  him  into  all  his  own 
pleasures. 

And  the  son  of  old  Amos  Braithwaite  easily 
made  himself  popular  and  welcome,  especially 
with  mothers  who  had  large  families  of  pretty, 
marriageable  daughters.  He  was  fine-looking 


52  MASTER  OF  HIS  FATE. 

and  agreeable,  the  probable  heir  of  half-a-miliion 
of  money,  the  favorite  and  friend  of  the  pet 
lawyer  of  the  locality.  It  was  likely  enough 
he  would  become  a  partner  in  the  firm  of 
Halifax  Brothers,  and  most  of  the  women 
believed  that  he  would  very  speedily  regain 
his  father's  love.  The  men,  however,  or  at 
least  such  of  them  as  knew  Amos  Braithwaite, 
were  less  sanguine. 

"  He'll  do  nowt  o'  t'  sort,"  said  Ezra  Dea- 
conson  to  his  wife  as  she  was  speaking  of  Joe's 
attentions  to  her  own  pretty  Mattie.  "  He'll 
<do  nowt  o' t'  sort.  Thou  doesn't  know  Amos 
Braithwaite,  or  thou  would  never  say  it.  I 
hevn't  seen  him  mysen  for  years  and  years,  but 
I  can  reckon  him  up  pretty  well.  If  he  has 
turned  his  back  on  his  son,  there's  nothing  but 
t'  almighty  hand  o'  God  could  mak'  Amos  face 
about." 

"  I  don't  think  that  bad  of  him,  Ezra.  I  hev 
spoke  with  them  as  knows  Braithwaite  varry 
well,  and  I  hev  heard  'em  say,  thet  if  you  can 
only  get  on  t'  right  side  of  him,  you'll  find  a 
kind  heart  below  his  stubborn  will  and  gruff 
speech." 

"  What  by  that,    Martha?      What  by  that  ? 


THUS  RUNS    THE    WORLD   AWAY.          53 

Did  ta  iver  hear  tell  of  any  one  who  did  get 
on  t'  right  side  o'  him?  I'll  warrant  thou 
hesn't.  Thou  keep  our  Mattie  away  from  Joe 
Braithwaite ;  t'  little  lass  will  hev  too  much 
brass  for  that  young  man  to  handle." 

"  Deary  me,  Ezra !  Brass  seems  to  come 
into  ivery  thought,  sweethearting  and  all.  It  is 
a  wonderful  thing  !  " 

"  Ay,  it  is;  when  a  man  knows  how  to  use 
it." 

"  Tom  Halifax  was  saying  that  there  is  talk 
of  Amos  Braithwaite  marrying  a  young  woman, 
and  going  in  for  a  bit  o'  pleasure  in  his  old 
days." 

"  Amos  is  none  such  a  fool.  Amos  knows 
well  enough  he'd  hev  no  pleasure  outside  his 
mill.  Without  t'  looms  he'd  be  about  as  mis 
erable  as  a  gambler  would  be  without  his  cards. 
I  did  hear  summat  about  Lottie  Greenwood  and 
Amos,  but  I  set  little  by  wedding  talk,  till  I 
see  t' wedding.  Wherever  womenfolk  are  con 
cerned  hearsay  don't  do  for  me ;  I  wouldn't 
swear  even  to  my  awn  eyesight." 

The  report,  however,  which  coupled  the 
names  of  Amos  Braithwaite  and  Lottie  Green 
wood  was  not  without  foundation.  He  had 


54  MASTED    OF  HIS  FATE. 

said  he  would  marry  again,  and  have  such 
friendship  as  was  going.  In  the  first  smart  of 
his  desertion,  it  seemed  to  him  the  surest 
way  to  show  Joe  that  he  had  cast  him  off  for 
ever,  and  also  to  insure  such  domestic  comfort 
as  he  wanted. 

Now,  if  he  had  been  looking  for  wool,  he 
would  have  known  exactly  where  to  go  for  the 
quality  he  desired  ;  but  he  felt  like  a  man  in  a 
strange  world  when  he  wanted  a  wife.  It  hap 
pened,  however,  that  he  had  one  day  an  occa 
sion  to  call  on  Jonathan  Greenwood  about  some 
special  hands,  and  as  they  sat  talking  Lottie 
came  into  the  room.  She  was  fresh  and  rosy 
from  the  breezy  walk  upon  the  moor,  and  her 
bright  black  eyes,  and  fine  color,  and  buxom 
form  attracted  Amos. 

He  stayed  to  tea  and  played  a  game  of  whist 
afterwards,  and  Lottie  was  his  partner.  When 
he  went  home  he  was  considerably  under  the 
fascination  of  her  bright  eyes,  and  he  kept  say 
ing  to  himself,  "  There  will  be  no  fear  of  a  girl 
like  that  turning  sick  on  my  hands,  and  mebbe 
I  might  hev  a  bit  o'  house-comfort  wi'  her,  if  I 
could  only  frame  mysen  to  marry  again." 

For  a  month  things  progressed  very  favora- 


THUS  RUNS    THE    WORLD  AWAY.  55 

bly.  He  had  not  asked  Lottie  to  be  his  wife, 
but  he  was  on  the  way  to  do  so  one  night  when 
he  met  an  old  acquaintance  on  the  road.  He 
offered  him  a  seat  in  his  gig,  and  they  fell  into 
conversation.  Amos  himself  introduced  the 
subject  of  the  Greenwoods,  and  the  man,  who 
really  knew  nothing  of  his  intention,  went  back 
ward  in  his  own  memory  to  find  a  reason  for 
his  evident  desire  to  talk  about  them.  Then 
he  remembered  that  Joe  Braithwaite  had  once 
been  an  admirer  of  Lottie,  and  he  said, "  Hap 
pen  thou  art  trying  to  put  things  right  again 
between  thy  Joe  and  Greenwood's  pretty  lass  ?" 

Amos  looked  sharply  at  the  questioner,  but 
it  was  evident  the  remark  had  been  made  in 
good  faith,  so  he  replied,  with  well-assumed  in 
difference,  "  Not  I.  I  niver  bothered  mysen 
wi'  Joe's  love  affairs  ;  I'd  hev  had  a  lot  to  do 
if  I'd  tried  thet  job.  So  Joe  were  sweet  on 
Lottie  Greenwood  ?  I  niver  heard  tell  o'  that." 

"  Joe's  hed  lots  o'  sweethearts." 

"  I  dare  be  bound  he  had  ;  but  I  niver  heard 
o'  Greenwood's  daughter  before." 

*'  Oh,  but  you  know,  they  wer*  varry  thick 
once  on  a  time.  Folks  thought  they  would 
marry,  but  they  didn't." 


56  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE, 

"  No,  they  didn't.  That's  so.  Mebbe  t'  lass 
'wasn't  fond  o'  Joe.  Mebbe  she  jilted  him. 
Girls  hev  jilted  finer  fellows  than  Joe  Braith- 
waite,  I'll  warrant." 

"  It  wer'  Joe's  fault,  I  reckon.  Lottie  Green- 
wood. was  uncommon  fondo'  him,  I  heard.  And 
t'  old  folks  wer'  varry  set  up  with  t'  idea.  They 
had  parties  and  stirrings  on  a  grand  scale  for 
them.  That  showed  how  fain  for  i'  match  they 
wer'  ;  for  they  are  a  scraping,  careful  pair,  aren't 
they  ?  " 

"I  fancy  they  are.  But  a  love  for  brass  is 
common  enough.  I'd  like  a  bit  more  mysen. 
If  ta  will  step  down  now  I'll  bid  thee  good 
night,  for  I'm  bound  for  Greenwoods,  and  I'm 
obliged  to  thee  for  telling  me  about  my  Joe 
and  Lottie.  I  shall  look  a  bit  closer  at  her  to 
night.  Why !  she  might  hev  been  my  daugh 
ter?"  And  Amos  laughed  loudly,  and  whipped 
up  his  mare  like  a  man  in  a  great  hurry. 

And  the  acquaintance  whom  he  dropped 
laughed  too.  "  Old  Cobwebs  knows  a'  about 
wool,"  he  muttered  ;  "  but  if  he  goes  to  both 
ering  wi'  women,  he  will  find  out  varry  quick 
what  an  ignoramus  he  is." 

Amos  had  already  begun  to  suspect  it.     He 


THUS  RUNS    THE    WORLD  AWAY.          57 

was  congratulating  himself  for  offering  Hartley 
a  ride,  when  he  entered  Lottie's  presence. 
She  happened  to  be  quieter  than  usual,  a  little 
sad  and  sentimental.  It  was  a  mood  Amos 
could  not  understand,  and  which  had  not 
pleasant  associations.  Besides,  it  instantly 
struck  him  that  Lottie  was  perhaps  fretting  a 
little  for  Joe.  The  thought  made  it  very  easy 
for  him  to  speak. 

"  Lottie,"  he  said,  "  did  ta  iver  know  Joe 
Braithwaite?" 

"  Yes,  I  knew  him.  He  used  to  call  here 
often,  once." 

"Was  he  in  love  wi'  thee?'' 

"  Perhaps  he  was." 

"  Was  ta  in  love  with  him  ?  " 

"  You  shouldn't  ask  such  questions." 

"  Ay,  but  I  should,"  he  was  looking  stead 
ily  at  her.  "Thou  quarreled  wi'  Joe,  didn't 
ta?" 

"  I  think  Joe  behaved  badly." 

"  I  hev  no  doubt  he  did.  It  comes  easy  for 
Joe  to  behave  badly.  And  thou  wanted  to  be 
even  with  him,  didn't  ta  ?  If  ta  married  me, 
thou  could  pay  him  back,  couldn't  ta  ?  " 

"Joe  is  a  bad  son.     Joe  is  true  to  nobody." 


58  MASTER  OF  HIS  FATE. 

"  Ay,  he  is  a  bad  son.  I  told  him  I'd  marry 
again,  and  I  hed  some  thoughts  o'  asking  thee 
to  be  my  wife." 

Lottie  looked  up,  and  then  down,  with  a 
most  encouraging  smile. 

"But  I  hev  changed  my  mind  since  I  heard 
tell  o'  Joe.  I  don't  want  any  cast-off  sweet 
heart  of  Joe's.  So  we'll  be  off  wi'  that  bargain. 
There  are  plenty  o'  matrimonial  failures,  with 
out  us  makin'  another  on  t'  black  list,  I'm 
sure." 

Naturally  Lottie  was  at  once  indignant. 
She  told  Amos  very  decidedly  that  she  had 
never  had  the  slightest  intention  of  marrying 
him.  And  Amos  was  delighted  to  have  her 
look  at  the  situation  in  that  light.  It  put  the 
blame  of  the  rupture  just  where  it  suited  him 
to  have  it.  For,  though  he  expected  men  to 
twit  him  about  wearing  the  willow,  etc.,  he 
knew  that  he  could  bear  that  accusation  far 
more  comfortably  than  a  legal  inquiry,  which 
might  cost  him  golden  guineas  to  heal  the  hurt 
his  fickleness  had  given  Miss  Lottie. 

This  was  the  only  experiment  Amos  made 
looking  toward  domestic  or  social  happiness. 
He  congratulated  himself  that  it  had  been  a 


THUS  RUNS    THE    WORLD  AWAY.          59 

failure,  and  henceforward  he  determined  to 
seek  neither  the  friendship  of  men  nor  the  love 
of  women.  He  virtually  closed  his  house,  for 
he  confined  himself  to  the  parlor  in  which  he 
ate  and  the  room  in  which  he  slept.  And  he 
dismissed  all  his  servants,  excepting  the  old 
woman  who  cooked  his  food,  and  her  husband, 
who  attended  to  his  horse  and  gig,  and  pot 
tered  about  the  garden  at  odd  hours. 

Then  he  devoted  himself,  body  and  soul,  to 
the  mill  which  Joe  had  despised.  He  built 
wings  to  it,  and  added  a  story,  and  lengthened 
the  chimney  until  it  overtopped  all  the  chim 
neys  far  and  near.  He  filled  it  with  the 
finest  machinery.  He  employed  only  the 
most  competent  hands.  He  utilized  every 
drop  of  water  and  every  ounce  of  steam  so 
cleverly  that  people  said,  "  If  there  were  only 
the  power  of  a  blue-bottle  fly  owd  Braith- 
waite  would  turn  it  to  account."  He  was 
always  busy  and  active  and  apparently  so 
cheerful  that  no  one  suspected  him  to  be  at 
heart  an  unhappy  and  bitterly  disappointed 
man, 

In  the  meantime,  Joe  was  taking  his  exist 
ence  with  a  large  measure  of  content.  Aunt 


60  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

Martha  watched  over  his  comfort  with  that 
priceless  common-place  love  which  does  not 
disdain  the  oversight  of  very  inferior  details, 
which  can  superintend  meals  and  oversee 
stockings  and  buttons,  and  is  not  to  be  frittered 
away  by  continual  small  demands  on  forbear 
ance  and  sympathy.  For  in  scarcely  any 
respect  did  Joe  fulfil  Martha  Thrale's  personal 
hopes  and  desires.  He  turned  out  to  be  a 
society  man  instead  of  a  chapel  man.  He 
went  to  balls  and  parties,  he  dressed  elegantly, 
and  visited  in  the  grandest  houses.  He  was 
a  kind  of  leader  in  a  very  fashionable  set. 
And  of  course  £$,ooo  could  not  last  for  ever, 
even  when  a  man  is  nowise  troubled  about 
board  and  lodging  bills.  So,  at  the  end  of 
four  years'  dressing  and  visiting  and  driving, 
Joe's  credit  was  no  longer  represented  by  four 
figures,  for  he  had  dipped  deeply  into  his  last 
thousand.  However,  he  was  then  ready  to  go 
into  business,  and  he  felt  sure  that  the  large 
circle  of  friends  he  had  made  would  repay 
the  expense  of  making  them.  He  furnished  a 
handsome  office  and  announced  himself  to  the 
public  as  Attorney-at-law.  But  Yorkshiremen 
are  proverbially  cautious,  and  a  handsome, 


THUS  RUNS    "1HE    WORLD    AWAY.          6 1 

good-natured,  fashionably-dressed  young  man 
was  the  very  antipodes  of  their  ideal  lawyer. 
Joe  could  not  look  crafty  or  wise  under  any 
circumstances,  and  during  the  first  year  of  his 
professional  life  he  did  not  make  sufficient 
money  to  pay  his  office  rent. 

Nevertheless  Joe  did  not  in  any  way  think 
of  curtailing  his  expenses.  When  the  summer 
holidays  arrived,  he  went  as  usual  to  a  favor- 
ite  watering-place.  He  admitted  to  himself 
that  it  might  be  the  last  summer  he  could  af 
ford  the  luxury,  and  he  determined  to  make 
the  most  of  his  pleasure.  No  face  was  so 
bright,  no  heart  so  gay,  no  one  so  entertaining 
and  so  popular. 

In  the  height  of  the  season  there  was  a  re 
port  that  stirred  the  heart  of  every  young  man 
in  Harrowgate ;  Miss  Edith  Bradley  was  com 
ing.  She  was  said  to  be  beautiful,  she  was 
known  to  be  immensely  wealthy.  She  was 
only  twenty-two  years  old,  and  therefore  not 
past  the  age  in  which  women  are  apt  to  think 
the  world  well  lost  for  love. 

Joe  had  heard  before  of  Miss  Bradley ;  not 
so  much  of  Miss  Bradley  as  of  her  father.  Old 
Luke  Bradley  had  been  always  a  Mordecai  to 


62  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

his  own  father.  There  had  been  a  deep  and 
long-cherished  grudge  between  the  two  men. 
Both  of  them  had  loved  AnnThrale,  and  Amos 
had  won  her.  After  her  decease,  Luke  had 
spoken  warmly  concerning  the  indifference  of 
Amos  to  her  comfort  while  she  was  living,  and 
to  her  memory  when  she  was  dead.  He  had 
emphasized  his  opinions  by  many  well-directed 
interferences  with  the  business  of  Bevin  Mill. 
He  had  bid  wool  up  when  Amos  wished  to  buy. 
He  had  bought  off  hands  Amos  wished  to  re 
tain.  He  had  dropped  words  and  looks  before 
probable  customers  which  had  doubtless  lost 
Amos  many  a  sovereign.  He  had  run  against 
him  for  local  offices,  and  always  defeated  him  ; 
in  short,  he  had  been  a  stumbling  block  and  an 
offense  in  every  business  plan,  and  in  every 
social  ambition  which  Amos  had  conceived. 

Joe  remembered  wrell  the  reticent  satisfaction 
which  the  news  of  his  death  had  given  at  Bevin 
Hall.  Arnos  had  not,  at  that  hour,  spoken  a 
word  expressive  of  his  feelings;  but  all  the 
same  he  had  not  been  able  to  hide  his  senti 
ments.  He  might  just  as  well  have  said  then, 
what  he  said  a  few  days  afterward :  "  He'll  hev 
to  abate  himsen  a  bit  now.  He'll  find  out  thet 


THUS  RUNS    THE    WORLD  AWAY.          63 

Luke  Bradley  can't  order  things  as  he  fancies 
'em,  for  wherever  he  is,  there's  sure  to  be  big 
ger  folk  than  he  iver  was.  My  word !  How 
he  used  to  jingle  t'  guineas  in  his  breeches 
pocket,  and  then  step  out  to  t'  music  they 
made." 

Joe  remembered  all  these  things.  He  had 
felt  thoroughly  in  sympathy  with  his  father's 
sense  of  injury  from  Luke  Bradley,  yet  he  had 
a  vague  curiosity  to  see  this  daughter  of  their 
enemy.  The  feeling  was  perhaps  something 
more  than  a  curiosity  ;  it  included  a  dim  and 
depressing  presentiment  about  her,  a  conscious 
ness  which  was  stronger  than  his  curiosity,  and 
which  found  a  tangible  expression  in  a  reluc 
tance  to  meet  her. 

And  yet,  unless  he  left  Harrowgate,  a  meet 
ing  was  inevitable.  The  question  soon  resolved 
itself  into  two  points,  neither  of  which  he  had 
any  desire  to  face.  First,  if  he  liked  Edith 
Bradley,  he  would  feel  like  a  traitor  to  the 
past,  and  to  his  father,  and  he  would  most 
likely  cast  away  the  last  chance  of  a  reconcilia 
tion  with  him.  Second,  if  he  did  not  like  her, 
it  was  probable  the  feeling  would  be  mutual, 
in  which  case  Edith  might  say  and  do  little 


64  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

things  which  would  make  his  longer  stay  an  un« 
pleasant,  perhaps  a  mortifying  ordeal. 

So  he  resolved  to  shorten  his  holiday.  He 
was  nearly  out  of  funds,  and  it  was  evident  his 
affairs  were  reaching  a  crisis.  He  took  a  quiet 
stroll  in  the  gardens  to  consider  his  future 
course,  and  as  he  wandered  thoughtfully  under 
the  trees  he  saw  two  ladies  sitting  in  a  little 
alcove  in  advance  of  him.  One  of  them  he 
knew  was  Lilian  Gates  ;  he  recognized  her  short, 
slight  figure  and  shrill  laugh  ;  the  other  was 
Edith  Bradley. 

He  knew  it,  though  he  could  not  have  given 
a  single  reason  for  knowing  it.  Retreat  was 
not  possible,  for  the  ladies  must  have  seen  him. 
He  dreaded  Lilian's  witty  explanation  of  his 
position.  He  would  not  have  Edith  Bradley 
think  he  was  afraid  to  meet  her.  So  he  ad 
vanced  slowly,  bearing  with  a  studied  non 
chalance  their  critical  eyes.  Lilian  received 
him  with  a  frivolous  badinage  that  was  reas 
suring,  and  he  heard  her  go  through  some  form 
of  introduction,  and  perceived  that  a  tall, 
noble-looking  woman  was  bowing  graciously  in 
response  to  the  words  uttered. 

Under  no  circumstances  had  he  ever  been  so 


THUS  RUXS    THE    WOULD   AWAY.          65 

abashed  before.  But  presently  he  threw  off 
his  unusual  constraint,  plunged  boldly  into 
conversation,  and  ere  long  ventured  to  look 
into  Edith's  face.  He  saw  that  she  was  a  very 
handsome  woman,  with  soft,  large  eyes,  em 
phasized  by  dark,  level  brows,  and  thick  bands 
of  black  hair,  hair  which  had  naturally  the 
wave  and  ripple  most  women  simulate  by  art. 
Her  complexion  was  brown,  but  her  cheeks 
were  tinted  by  the  most  vivid  carnation,  and 
when  Joe  lifted  his  eyes  to  her,  and  spoke  a 
few  words  of  very  common-place  tenor,  the 
same  bright  color  flushed  her  throat  and 
mounted  to  her  wide,  low  brow.  She  was 
dressed  in  silk,  sort  in  texture,  and  like  old 
ivory  in  shade,  brightened  here  and  there  with 
bows  of  carnation  ribbon.  She  affected  Joe  as 
some  gorgeous  tropical  flower  might  have  done. 
He  did  not,  however,  remain  long  in  her 
presence,  for  he  was  troubled  about  his  dress 
and  appearance.  He  was  sure  that  never 
before  had  he  worn  so  unbecoming  a  coat,  nor 
done  himself  so  little  justice.  All  thoughts  of 
leaving  Harrogate  were  gone  as  if  they  had 
never  been.  He  felt  that  he  would  be  miser- 
able  until  he  had  done  something  to  redeem 


66  MASTER  OF  HIS  FATE. 

the  unfavorable  first  impression  which  he  was 
convinced  he  had  made  upon  Miss  Bradley. 

But  Edith  did  not  seem  to  have  been  at  all 
unfavorably  impressed.  On  the  contrary,  when 
Joe  was  out  of  sight  and  hearing,  she  said 
softly,  "  What  a  pleasant  man  !  He  affects  one 
like  sunshine  dancing  in  a  room  on  a  change 
able  spring  day." 

"  He  is  a  very  handsome  man,"  answered 
Lilian.  "The  girls  all  admire  his  glinting  blue 
eyes  and  delightful  temper.  He  is  a  great 
favorite." 

"  And  has  he  any  special  favorite  ?  Perhaps 
you  are  his  favorite,  Lilian.  That  is  the  reason 
you  wanted  to  come  into  the  gardens.  You 
knew  he  would  meet  you." 

"  No,  indeed,  Edith.  I  fancy  his  love  would 
be  hard  to  win  ;  and  maybe  it  would  not  repay 
the  girl  who  would  be  spendthrift  enough  to 
squander  her  own  on  it." 

Then  Edith  rose  as  if  the  subject  no  longer 
interested  her.  "  Let  us  go  into  the  house," 
she  said.  "  It  has  suddenly  become  dull.  Is 
it  going  to  rain,  I  wonder?" 


CHAPTER  V. 

JOE   PLEASES   HIS   FATHER. 

Fortune  brings  in  some  boats  that  are  not  steer'cL 
If  money  goes  before,  all  ways  lie  open. 
Love's  reason's  without  reason. 

Stony  limits  cannot  hold  love  out ; 
And  what  love  can  do,  that  dares  love  attempt. 

IN  every  life  there  are  moments  which  are 
turning-points.  After  them  nothing  is 
quite  the  same,  and  no  effort  brings  back  the 
something  which  has  been  lost  or  changed. 
Joe  left  Edith  Bradley's  presence  conscious  of 
this  feeling,  and  half  resentful  at  it.  He  asked 
himself  what  Luke  Bradley's  daughter  could  be 
to  him.  He  had  been  taught  to  hate  Luke 
Bradley,  and  he  had  done  so  thoroughly.  To 
love  Edith  was,  in  a  fashion,  to  eat  his  own 
and  his  father's  words.  "  Father  would  have  a 
good  right  to  be  topping  angry  at  me  if  I  did 
such  a  thing,"  he  mused  ;  "  and  I'm  sure  he'd 


68  MASTER   OF  HIS  FA  TE. 

think  that  I  did  it  just  to  make  him  angry.  I 
wouldn't  do  that,  not  I  !  " 

But,  in  spite  of  his  efforts  he  could  not  keep 
the  beautiful  Edith  out  of  his  mind.  He 
decided  to  leave  Harrogate,  and  then  found 
half  a  dozen  reasons  for  not  doing  so.  In  three 
days  he  was  deeply  in  love  and  beginning  to 
realize  his  position.  It  was  all  the  harder 
now  to  contemplate  giving  up  all  hope  of  win 
ning  Edith,  because  she  had  been  so  genuinely 
kind  to  him.  In  many  ways  she  had  shown 
her  pleasure  in  his  society  and  her  preference 
for  it,  and  Joe  found  it  impossible  to  resist  her 
many  charms  when  he  was  within  their  influence. 

This  sweet  uncertainty  of  love,  this  determi 
nation  to  do  one  hour  the  thing  which  it  is 
determined  not  to  do  the  next  hour,  is  the 
very  atmosphere  of  an  affection  which  is  at 
once  alluring  and  unwise  ;  and  Jce  was  restless 
enough  under  the  circumstances.  One  evening, 
as  he  was  walking  through  the  pretty  town,  full 
of  vague  longings  and  very  positive  anxieties, 
he  met  Edith.  She  was  so  unaffectedly  glad 
to  see  him,  and  she  blushed  so  brightly  when 
she  looked  into  his  face,  that  Joe  forgot  every 
thing  but  the  delight  of  the  hour.  Without 


JOE  PLEASES  HIS  FATHER.  69 

any  direct  invitation  she  walked  with  him  into 
the  outskirts  of  the  town. 

They  found  a  rustic  stile  leading  into  a  shady 
pasture,  and,  as  if  in  obedience  to  his  unspoken 
desires,  Edith  walked  through  the  grass  by  his 
side.  They  spoke  little,  for  silence  seemed  to 
be  so  eloquent.  And  oh,  how  sweet  was  the 
silence  between  them  !  In  the  twilight  they 
drew  closer  to  each  other  and  began  to  con- 
verse  softly  about  their  own  past  lives.  Edith 
told  him  that  she  had  been  educated  in  Bristol 
because  she  had  an  aunt  living  there ;  that  she 
had  scarcely  returned  home  ere  her  father  died, 
and  that,  ever  since,  she  had  lived  at  Bradley 
Court. 

Joe  thought  she  must  be  lonely  there,  and 
wondered  how  she  could  manage  so  large  an 
estate.  And  Edith  admitted  that  she  very 
often  was  a  little  lonely  ;  but  that,  as  for  the 
estate,  it  was  easily  managed.  She  had  her 
father's  old  lawyer  and  agents  to  help  her,  and, 
she  added  with  a  sharp  laugh,  "  I  should  know 
very  well,  though,  how  to  take  care  of  it  with 
out  them." 

During  that  walk  Joe's  last  scruples  gave 
way.  He  determined  to  win  Edith  if  it  were 


7°  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

possible ;  and  when  this  determination  had 
been  arrived  at,  he  began  to  tell  himself  that 
his  father  had,  in  a  manner,  cast  him  off ;  that 
nothing  he  could  do  would  be  likely  to  be  satis 
factory,  and  that,  therefore,  he  might  as  well 
marry  the  woman  he  loved. 

And  he  thought  about  Edith's  riches  until 
they  became  quite  unobjectionable.  His  pro 
fession  had  been,  as  yet,  a  failure.  He  had 
adopted  it  in  a  kind  of  bravado  ;  he  did  not 
like  it,  and  he  had  no  special  genius  for  it.  In 
his  heart  he  knew  that  he  was  never  likely  to 
be  a  successful  lawyer.  His  money  was  nearly 
gone.  His  father  was  practically  dead  to  him, 
his  aunt  too  poor  to  give  him  pecuniary  aid  ; 
four  years  of  luxury  and  self-indulgence  had 
made  him  far  less  inclined  to  face  the  strife  of 
life  than  he  had  been  on  that  night  when  he 
elected  to  take  his  own  way  and  £$,ooo. 

To  be  master  of  Bradley  Manor  and  the  hus 
band  of  the  handsome  Edith  Bradley  was 
surely  not  a  bad  lot  in  life.  If  fortune  designed 
him  so  much  favor,  why  should  he  throw  it 
away  for  a  few  sentimental  objections  ?  The 
idea  became  familiarly  pleasant  to  him.  He 


JOE  PLEASES  HIS  FATHER.  71 

was  determined  to  let  every  thing  go  in  order  to 
realize  it. 

And  Edith  had  that  proud  nature  which 
would  rather  confer  an  obligation  than  accept 
one.  Directed  by  the  impulse  of  her  own 
heart,  she  had  singled  out  this  handsome  youth 
for  her  favor  in  the  very  hour  of  their  meeting. 
Still,  she  was  more  cautious  than  impulsive. 
She  desired  to  be  better  acquainted  with  her 
lover's  character.  Above  all  she  wanted  to  be 
certain  of  her  own  heart  ;  and  she  waited  for 
its  assurance  with  a  curious  eagerness,  wondering 
often  by  what  name  she  ought  to  call  the  sweet 
tumult  in  her  breast,  the  longing  for  Joe's  pres 
ence,  the  restlessness  in  his  absence,  the  in 
fluence  which  he  personally  exercised  over  her. 

One  morning  in  the  following  spring,  she 
awoke  with  all  these  doubts  settled.  She  had 
had  a  wonderful  dream.  She  had  dreamt  that 
she  loved  Joe.  And  the  dream  had  been  so 
delightful  that  it  made  her  heart  ache  to 
awaken  from  it.  It  was  the  settlement  of  the 
question  to  her,  and  it  influenced  her  manner 
in  some  such  sweetly  subtle  way  that  it  was 
almost  as  perfect  a  revelation  to  Joe.  That 
afternoon,  as  they  walked  in  the  garden,  with 


72  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

the  glory  and  the  freshness  of  the  spring 
around  them,  Joe  asked  Edith  to  be  his  wife, 
and  Edith  told  him  her  dream,  and  let  him  read 
it  as  he  wished. 

The  few  hours  that  followed  were  so  wonder 
ful  to  Joe  that  they  actually  changed  for  a  short 
space  the  youth's  countenance.  It  was  so 
bright  and  joyous,  he  held  his  head  so  high  and 
stepped  so  proudly,  that  Martha  Thrale  could 
not  but  notice  his  exaltation,  the  more  so 
that  it  was  in  such  direct  contrast  to  the  moods 
of  anxiety  and  depression  he  had  recently  been 
subject  to. 

"  Well,  Joe,"  she  said,  cheerfully,  "  thou  looks 
middling  happy  to-night  ;  and  I'm  glad  to  see 
it.  Whatever  is  up  with  thee  ?  " 

"  The  best  bit  of  luck  that  can  come  to  any 
man,  Aunt  Martha." 

"  Does  ta  mean  wedding?" 

"  Yes,  I  mean  wedding.  What  do  you  think 
of  it?" 

"  I  niver  waste  time  thinking  o'  it.  I  am  too 
old,  and  thou  art  too  poor.  Wedding  is 
naught  in  my  line,  nor  in  thine  either,  I  sud  say." 

"  But,  aunt,  I  have  won  the  noblest  prize  in 
England." 


JOE  PLEASES  HIS  FATHER.  73 

"  I  hev  heard  a  sight  o'  men  and  women  say 
t'  vary  same  thing,  when  t'  craze  to  get  wed 
comes  over  'em.  And  I  hev  noticed  that  it  is 
most  sure  to  come  to  such  foolish  folk  as  hev 
no  knowledge  o'  private  arithmetic  and  can't 
reckon  up  ta  difference  between  their  incomings 
and  outgoings." 

"  I  am  not  one  of  that  kind,  aunt.  And  if 
money  can  make  us  happy,  she  has  plenty  of 
it." 

"  I  don't  say  that  money  can  make  you 
happy,  Joe  ;  not  it !  Folks  usually  expect  a 
deal  more  happiness  from  money  than  it  iver 
gives,  either  men  or  women.  Who  is  ta  going 
to  marry  ?  Or,  rather,  who  is  going  to  marry 
thee." 

"  Miss  Bradley." 

"  Niver !     Niver!!     Niver!!! 

"  She  is  that,  though.  And  there  is  not  a 
better  or  a  lovelier  woman  in  the  world." 

"  Owd  Luke  Bradley's  daughter?  " 

"  To  be  sure." 

"  I  wouldn't  hev  thought  it  of  thee  !  Does 
ta  remember  all  t' wrongs  he  did  thy  father? 
I'm  not  on  t'  side  of  Amos  Braithwaite  mostly, 
but  I  do  think  it  is  a  shame  o'  thee  to  tak'  t' 


74  MASTER    OF  HIS  FATE. 

daughter  of  his  life-long  enemy  for  thy  wife ; 
I  do  that!  Why,  he'll  niver  forgive 
thee." 

"  I  stood  by  my  father  while  he  stood  by  me. 
Now  he  never  so  much  as  asks  if  I  be  living  or 
dead.  He  can  hardly  expect  me  to  give  up 
Edith  in  order  to  carry  on  his  spite  against  a 
dead  man.  I'd  be  a  fool  if  I  did." 

"  I  never  said  thou  wert  a  wise  man,  but  I 
don't  think  a  fool  is  iver  a  big  fool  until  he  gets 
himsen  married.  Thou  hasn't  made  ^"50  in  a 
twelvemonths.  How  is  ta  going  to  keep  a  rich, 
fashionable  lass  like  Edith  Bradley  ?  " 

"  Miss  Bradley  has  ^6,000  a  year,  beside  the 
income  from  Bradley  Manor.  That  is  some 
thing." 

"  Happen  it  is  and  happen  it  isn't.  But  if  ta 
wants  to  marry  ,£6,000,  do  it,  my  lad.  I  don't 
think  thou  wilt  be  any  too  good  for  such  a  job 
if  ta  tak's  to  it,  Joe." 

Nothing  Joe  could  say  reconciled  Martha 
Thrale  to  the  marriage.  Good  lasses  come 
from  good  stock,"  she  said  angrily  ;  "  and  I 
think  little  o'  Luke  Bradley." 

"  I  never  heard  any  one  but  father  say  any 
thing  wrong  of  Luke  Bradley.  He  was  a  very 


JOE  PLEASES  HIS  FATHER.  75 

good  churchman,  and  his  hands  all  spoke  well 
of  him." 

"  Thy  father  had  his  own  opinions  of  Bradley, 
and  if  ta  was  a  good  son  thou  would  surely  stand  I 
by  thy  own  family." 

"  Right  or  wrong  ?  " 

"  Right  or  wrong,  for  sure !  But  I  mak' 
no  doubt  thou  would  go  against  me  also,  if  there 
was  .£6,000  a  year  for  that  job  too.  When  is  ta 
going  to  be  wed  ?  " 

"  In  a  month." 

"  My  word !     Thou   is   in   a   hurry.     I    sud 
think  thou  might  give  thy  father  a  chance  to; 
say  a  word  about  bringing  t'  Bradleys  into  his 
family.     It  isn't  fair,  Joe;  it  isn't  a  bit  fair  of 
thee." 

Such  conversations  were  very  common  during 
the  hurried  interval,  though,  as  the  wedding 
day  drew  near,  Martha  grew  more  and  more 
taciturn.  She  wanted  Amos  to  know  the  step 
his  son  was  contemplating,  and  yet  she  could 
not  make  up  her  mind  to  be  the  informant. 
The  news,  however,  reached  Amos  in  a  still 
more  direct  way. 

It  happened  that  Joshua  Perkins  had  the 
management  of  the  Bradley  estate,  and  a  few 


76  MASTER    OF  HIS  FATE. 

days  before  the  proposed  marriage  was  to  be 
celebrated,  Joe  and  Edith  rode  over  to  his 
office  together  in  order  to  sign  some  papers. 
The  business  was  pleasantly  transacted,  and 
the  lovers  were  cantering  up  the  street  to 
gether,  when  Amos  Braithwaite's  gig  stopped 
at  the  lawyer's  door. 

Perkins  stood  just  within  it,  shading  his  eyes 
with  his  hands,  and  watching  the  happy,  hand- 
some  couple.  When  Amos  was  at  his  side,  he 
pointed  them  out  to  him.  The  trop-a-trop, 
trop-a-trop  of  the  horses'  feet  was  flung  back  in 
resonant  echoes,  anfl  Perkins,  with  a  soft, 
unctuous  laugh,  said,  "  Dost  ta  see  that  bay 
gelding  thy  Joe  is  riding?  It's  worth  four 
hundred  guineas  if  it's  worth  a  halfpenny  ;  and 
it  can  do  "proputty!  prop-ut-ty  !  prop-ut-ty !  " 
quite  as  well  as  that  farmer's  nag  some  o'  them 
great  poets  made  a  song  about." 

"  Whativer  is  ta  talking  about  ?  " 

"That  is  Joe  Braithwaite." 

"  I  don't  need  thee  to  tell  me  that,  I  sud 
think." 

"  Does  ta  know  t'  lass  he  is  with  ?  " 

"  Not  I.  I'd  be  middling  busy  if  I  tried  to 
keep  up  wi'  Joe's  sweethearts." 


JOE  PLEASES  HIS  FATHER.  77 

"  Ay  ;  but  thou  wilt  hev  to  know  this  one. 
Why,  it's  Luke  Bradley's  daughter,  and  thy 
Joe  and  her  are  bound  to  mak'  a  wedding  of 
it." 

"  Joshua  Perkins,  be  quiet,  will  ta !  Our  Joe 
and  Bradley's  lass  !  Thou  doesn't  know  what 
ta  is  saying !" 

"  I  know  varry  well  what  I'm  saying,  and 
thou  wilt  find  it  come  out  so  whether  ta  be 
lieves  me  or  not." 

"  Thou  caps  me !  It's  a  bit  o'  news  I  can't 
tak'  into  my  head  at  all." 

"  Well,  I  don't  blame  thee.  Thou  may  well 
hev  a  wondering  spell.  But  it  is  true  as  Gos 
pel.  I  hev  drawn  out  t'  settlements,  and  they 
hev  just  signed  'em.  My  word  !  but  she  is  a 
clever  lass!  She'll  keep  what's  her  awn  on  t* 
safe  side." 

"  Joe  wer'  allays  going  up  and  down  among 
t'  women  wi'  his  heart  in  his  hand  !  but  to 
think  o'  Bradley's  lass  taking  it !  Is  she  worth 
much  ?  " 

"  Bradley  Manor  and  ^"6,000  a  year.  And 
she  is  varry  handsome,  and  sharp  as  a  steel- 
trap." 

"  Say  no  more,  Perkins.     Joe  will  be  knock. 


78  MASTER    OF  HIS  FATE. 

ing  his  head  against  t'  stars  soon  ;  he'll  be  that 
set  up.  Lookee,  Perkins,"  and  Amos  drew  a 
long  bill  from  his  pocket-book  and  pointed  out 
certain  items  against  which  he  had  put  a  pencil- 
mark. 

"  What  does  ta  mean  by  charging  me  i'  this 
way  ?  I'll  niver  pay  it — niver  !  " 

"  Business,  Braithwaite,  business." 

"  Cheat'ry,  thou  means.  If  this  is  business, 
thou  sud  hev  taken  out  a  license  to  steal.  I 
want  to  start  an  action  against  John  Deaconson 
for  me'lling  wi1  my  beck,  but  thou  s'all  not 
touch  a  paper  till  this  bill  is  settled.  Now 
then,  what  is  ta  going  to  do  about  it?" 

"The  charges  are  quite  reg'lar." 

"  I'm  reg'lar  too  in  t'  courts ;  and  I'm  almost 
as  good  a  lawyer  as  thysen." 

Perkins  laughed,  and  then  ran  his  pen 
through  the  objectionable  items  as  he  said : 
"  One  bear  does  not  bite  another  bear,  Braith 
waite,  and  it  wouldn't  pay  me  to  eat  thee  up." 

"  I  sud  think  it  wouldn't.  There's  outsiders 
for  thee  to  whet  thy  teeth  on.  See  here  now." 
Then  he  laid  before  the  lawyer  his  complaint 
and  his  instructions,  and  in  their  consideration 
he  seemed  to  have  entirely  forgotten  the  news 


JOE   PLEASES  HIS  FATHER.  79 

about  his  son.  But  he  had  not.  As  he  rode 
back  to  Bevin  Mill  he  thought  of  nothing*  else, 
and  he  looked  at  the  affair  in  a  way  that  would 
probably  never  have  suggested  itself  to  any  one 
but  Amos  Braithwaite. 

He  had  begun  his  manufacturing  life  as  a 
hand  in  Bradley's  mill,  and  in  the  subsequent 
years  all  the  relations  between  the  men  had 
been  of  the  most  exasperating  kind.  But  Amos 
regarded  his  son's  marriage  with  Bradley's 
daughter  and  heiress  as  a  kind  of  providential 
retribution  in  his  favor,  and  he  was  in  a 
triumphant  state  as  he  muttered  to  himself, 
"  How  t'  owd  turkey-cock  used  to  snub  me  \ 
How  he  used  to  gobble  round  and  set  me  in 
Cold-shoulder  Lane  as  often  as  iver  he  could  ! 
And  only  to  think  o'  Luke  Bradley  tueing  and 
scrimping  himsen  and  saving  a'  his  brass  for 
my  Joe!  It  caps  me  all  to  bits!"  and  he 
flecked  his  whip  so  emphatically  that  the  horse 
really  imagined  him  in  a  hurry,  and  went  at  a 
pace  through  Bevin  village  that  would  have 
astonished  Amos  himself  had  he  been  conscious 
of  it. 

But  in  that  hour  some  very  unusual  thoughts 
had  possession  of  his  mind.  Unknowingly, 


So  MASTER   OF  HI 3  FATE. 

almost  defiantly,  Joe  Braithwaite  had  done  a 
thing  which  seemed  to  Joe's  father  a  particu 
lar  providence  for  the  settlement  of  his  claims 
against  the  dead- and -gone  Luke  Bradley. 
Amos  could  believe  in  a  special  providence 
when  it  undertook  the  righting  of  his  peculiar 
personal  grievances,  and  he  kept  ejaculating  in 
the  excitement  of  his  satisfaction,  "  It's  fair 
wonderful !  It's  a  clear  providence  !  It's  what 
I  niver  could  hev  expected  !  And  I  hev  no 
doubt  at  all  that  t'  proud,  miserly  owd  fellow 
knows  all  about  it.  My  word  !  If  he  does,  my 
Joe  will  be  plaguing  him  far  worse  thon  even  t' 
devil  himsen  can  manage  it !  He  will  that !" 


CHAPTER   VI. 

MASTER  AND  MISTRESS    OF  BRADLE\. 

There  is  nothing  either  good  or  bad  but  thinking  makes  it  so. 
'Tis  in  ourselves  that  we  are  thus,  or  thus, 
Love  is  love  to  the  end  of  the  reckoning. 


whole  affair  was  such  a  wonder  to 
X  Amos  that  he  could  not  eat  his  dinner. 
"  I  am  more  than  satisfied.  I'm  heart-full,"  he 
said,  as  he  pushed  the  platter  and  plate  aside. 
"  A  bit  o'  tobacco  is  all  as  iver  I  need  to-night; 
my  own  thoughts  are  a  good  meal,  and  plenty 
o'  it.  Joe  has  given  me  my  dinner,  and  a  right 
good  one  it  is!  T'  lad  is  no  fool,  why,  of  course 
he  isn't.  He's  my  son.  It  'ud  be  a  varry 
strange  thing  if  he  didn't  know  what  side  his 
bread  was  t'  best  buttered  on." 

Then  it  occurred  to  him  that  he  might  go 
into  Bradford  and  buy  the  handsomest  bit  of 
silverware  or  jewelry  he  could  put  his  hands 
on.  He  had  never  said  he  wouldn't  give  Joe's 


82  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

wife  a  present,  and  he  could  send  it  without  a 
name,  and  so  avoid  the  bother  of  thanks,  which 
might  lead  to  an  interview,  and  far  more  con 
cession  than  he  had  any  intention  of  making  at 
this  time,  even  under  circumstances  so  agree 
able  to  him. 

He  lay  awake  a  long  time  that  night,  picking 
and  choosing  among  Joshua  Wilson's  fine 
silverware  and  brooches  and  bracelets.  And 
as  men  wake  and  muse  in  the  dark  midnight, 
they  are  either  better  or  worse  than  their  usual 
selves.  Amos  was  better.  He  remembered 
Joe's  pleasant  ways  and  bright  presence  and 
handsome  face.  Vague,  longing  plans  for 
bringing  back  his  banished  son  flitted  through 
his  mind.  He  was  quite  resolved  to  send 
Edith  a  silver  tea  service,  and  as  handsome  a 
bracelet  as  he  could  put  his  fingers  on.  And 
feeling  all  the  glow  of  his  kind  intention,  he 
fell  happily  asleep. 

But  while  he  slept  some  evil  angel  whispered 
doubtful  and  irritating  suspicions  into  his  ear. 
He  awoke  with  a  sense  of  injury,  and  the  first 
thoughts  of  his  heart  were  :  "  Mebbe,  now,  Joe 
is  marrying  Edith  Bradley  just  because  he 
knows  I  hated  her  father  so  heartfully.  He 


MASTER  AND   MISTRESS   OF  BRADLEY.      83 

thinks  it  will  spite  me,  happen.  Or,  I  sudn't 
wonder  if  he  is  aiming  to  set  himsen  above  me. 
He'll  hev  more  brass  now  to  fling  away  than  I 
hev,  and  he'll  get  among  gentry  that  wouldn't 
know  Amos  Braithwaite,  no,  not  if  they  passed 
him  fifty  times  a  day.  I  hevn't  any  objection, 
I'm  sure— only,  come  to  think  o'  it,  I'd  be  more 
than  a  fool  to  waste  my  money  on  owd  Bradley's 
lass.  I  won't  do  it  !  Folks  hev  a  lot  o'  soft 
thoughts  in  t'  night  time,  to  be  sure.  It's  a 
blessing  that  a  bit  o'  common  sense  comes  back 
wi'  t'  sun  up." 

His  experiences  of  life  had  led  Amos  always 
to  attribute  the  lowest  motives  to  the  human 
heart ;  and  so  he  let  these  baser  second  thoughts 
rule  him.  Yet  he  was  morose  and  unhappy 
under  their  sway,  and  his  hands,  with  the  intui 
tive  penetration  of  servants,  divined  the  cause 
of  his  ill-temper,  and  decided  with  great  satis 
faction  that  "  he  hadn't  been  invited  to  t' 
wedding,  and  thet  it  served  him  right." 

But  one  morning  there  came  to  him  a  note  in 
white  satin  and  silver.  It  was  an  invitation  to 
be  present  at  the  marriage  of  Joseph  Braith 
waite  and  Edith  Bradley,  at  Bradley  Court. 
Within  this  fine  missive  there  was  a  strip  of 


34  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

ordinary  writing  paper,  and  on  it  Joe  had  writ 
ten  four  words,  "  Do  come,  dear  father." 

He  held  the  whole  in  his  large,  brown,  hairy 
hand  a  few  minutes,  looking  steadily  at  them. 
Then,  with  a  smile,  in  which  anger  and  satisfac 
tion  were  queerly  blended,  he  dropped  the  gay 
festival  cards  into  the  fire,  and  as  he  watched 
them  turn  to  ashes  he  slowly  fingered  the  strip 
of  paper  that  bore  his  son's  entreating  mes 
sage,  "  Do  come,  dear  father." 

He  hesitated  about  burning  it,  and  to  hesi 
tate  is  generally  to  give  up  or  to  give  in.  After 
a  few  moments  had  passed,  he  took  out  his 
pocket-book,  and  put  the  bit  of  paper  into  a 
compartment  intended  for  postage  stamps,  but 
which  he  never  used  for  that  purpose.  And 
while  doing  so  tne  question  of  a  wedding- 
present  again  crossed  his  mind.  But  this  time 
it  came  when  every  thing  was  adverse  for  its 
realization.  He  had  just  been  buying  largely, 
and  needed  all  his  ready  cash,  and,  besides,  it 
.suddenly  struck  him  that  silver  or  jewelry  was 
just  so  much  cash  buried  in  a  casket  or  drawer 
and  not  paying  a  penny  of  interest. 

"  A  bit  of  good  chinaware  is  all  I  hev,  and 
all  I  want  in  my  house,  and  I  niver  owned 


MASTER  AND  MISTRESS  OF  BRADLEY.      8t> 

aught  in  t'  way  o*  jewelry  but  a  silver  watch 
mysen,"  he  muttered;  and  Amos  was  not  the 
man  to  think  the  requirements  of  any  other 
person  greater  than  his  own.  Thus,  every  kindly 
thought  perished  in  suspicion  and  avarice. 

It  would  have  made  Joe  happy  if  he  had 
known  of  their  existence,  transient  as  it  was. 
He  watched  anxiously  for  some  answer  to  his 
request,  and  he  was  hurt  and  disappointed 
when  none  came.  All  the  more  so,  because 
Martha  Thrale  had  also  positively  refused  to 
be  present  at  the  marriage.  She  had  taken  a 
great  dislike  to  Miss  Bradley  at  their  first  in 
terview.  She  fancied  that  the  young  lady 
tried  to  patronize  her,  a  mode  of  treatment 
which  highly  offended  the  independent  York 
shire  woman. 

"  She  wanted  naught  that  Edith  Bradley 
hed ;  she  was  welcome  to  her  fine  house,  and 
her  grand  friends,  ay,  and  her  handsome  hus 
band,  too.  She  hedn't  a  word  to  say  either 
for  t'  wedding,  or  against  it.  It  was  none  of 
her  affairs,"  etc.  Yet  to  her  favorite  Wesleyan 
preacher  she  admitted  that  "  Miss  Bradley 
was  that  kind  o'  young  woman  as  allays  set 
her  teeth  on  edge." 


86  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

"  Her  tenants  speak  well  of  her,  Miss  Thrale," 
he  rejoined,  "  and  it  is  our  duty  to  hope  for 
the  best." 

"  To  be  sure,  sir.  I  hev  heard  that  she  is 
sweet  as  May  flowers  to  them  as  she  can  order 
and  hector!  Niver  mind  !  It  won't  be  very 
long  before  Joe  Braithwaite  will  get  to  see 
into  his  folly  a  bit." 

"  She  is  lady  of  the  Manor,  you  know,  Miss 
Thrale,  and  it  is  her  duty  to  take  some  author 
ity  upon  her.  She  ought  to  reprove  the  idle 
and  the  slovenly,  and  see  that  those  under  her 
do  their  duty." 

"  She  does  it  varry  well,  and  varry  often,  if 
all  reports  be  true.  And,  if  she  is  anything 
like  her  father,  she'll  tak  t'  sharp  edge  off  Joe 
Braithwaite  quick  enough,  if  she  thinks  he's 
getting  a  bit  too  for'ard  or  independent.  I 
hope  she  will.  I'm  not  sorry  for  Joe,  but  I 
am  for  Joe's  father.  I  don't  set  much  store  by 
Amos  Braithwaite,  but  I  know  this  wedding 
will  be  vinegar  and  gall  to  him.  Joe  hed  a 
right  to  think  of  his  father,  and  it's  hard  on 
me  too,  it  is  that  !  I've  done  iverything  for 
Joe,  and  then  he  marries  such  a  lass  as  I  can 
not  abide  to  go  to  t'  wedding.  And  me  that 


MASTER  AND  MISTRESS  OF  BRADLEY.       87 

fond  of  going  to  weddings,  and  allays  full  o* 
good  wishes  for  young  things  beginning  life 
together." 

"  It  is  a  little  hard,  Miss  Thrale,  but  per 
haps  you  may  yet  make  up  your  mind  to  go." 

"  Me  go  !  Why  !  I've  said  I  wouldn't  go.  I 
am  none  o'  them  women  who  say  no,  and  then 
yes." 

But  though  Martha  stayed  at  home  to  please 
her  own  kind  of  pride,  she  deeply  regretted 
not  having  seen  all  the  fine  dresses  and  wed 
ding  presents,  and  not  having  been  present 
at  a  feast  which  included  among  its  guests  a 
bishop,  a  baronet,  and  a  member  of  Parliament. 
There  was  a  full  report  of  all  the  grand  doings 
in  the  local  paper,  and  Martha  Thrale  read 
every  word  of  it  with  the  greatest  interest  and 
the  most  minute  attention. 

Amos  also  read  it  ;  and  he  had  his  own 
opinion  of  the  proceedings,  and  of  their  prob 
able  results. 

"  A  bishop  and  two  parsons  !  "  he  said,  sar 
castically.  "  I  wer'  married  by  t'  Methody 
preacher  in  Baildon  Chapel,  and  I  found  out 
as  t*  job  wer'  varry  well  done." 

He  had  noticed  Joshua  Perkins's  name  among 


88  MASTER  OF  HIS  FA7'E. 

the  Ifst  of  guests,  and  he  waited  anxiously  fof 
him  to  call  and  say  something  about  the  cere 
mony.  But  Perkins  did  not  even  pass  Bevin 
Mill. 

"  He  thinks  if  I  have  to  go  and  see  him  I'll 
bring  a  bit  o'  business  wi'  me,  as  an  excuse — • 
for  he  sells  ivery  word  he  speaks,  does  Joshua, 
or  tries  to — but  I'll  do  nowt  o'  t'  sort.  It 
would  be  such  a  wedding  as  niver  was  if  t' 
news  of  it  was  worth  paying  for." 

So  he  went  to  see  Perkins,  and  made  no  ex 
cuse  for  the  visit.  "  I  heard  thou  was  at  Joe's 
wedding,"  he  said,  without  any  preliminary. 
"  Well,  then,  what  kind  of  a  time  did  ta  hev 
there  ?  " 

"  It  was  a  varry  grand  affair,  Mr.  Braith- 
waite." 

"  What  is  ta  '  mistering  '  me  for  ?  Thou 
knaws  my  name  well  enough,  and  thou  hes 
call'd  me  by  it  a  few  times,  I  think." 

"  I  was  thinking  of  thee  as  connected  with  t' 
young  couple  of  Bradley  Manor,  I  suppose,  so 
a  little  formality  would  come  natural." 

"  Think  o'  me  by  mysen,  will  ta  ?  I'm  not  a 
mite  better  for  t'  connection,  and  I  don't  think 


MASTER  AND  MISTRESS   OF  BRADLEY.      «9 

mysen  any  better  for  it.  Why  sud  I  ?  So  there 
was  great  stirrings,  I  hear  ?  " 

"  The  best  people  in  the  county  were  there." 

"  To  be  sure,  and  I  hope  t'  best  people  did 
something  to  show  what  they  were." 

"  If  ta  means  in  t'  way  c'  presents,  Amos,  I 
think  they  did,  ay,  I  think  they  did.  Varry 
handsome  indeed  !  I  heard  the  silver  alone 
was  worth  ^"2,000.  I'm  astonished  thou  didn't 
send  a  bit  o'  plate  o'  some  sort." 

"Thou  would  hev  been  far  more  astonished 
if  I  had  sent  a  bit  of  any  sort  at  all.  They'll 
be  going  to  live  at  Bradley  Court,  I  reckon  ?  '* 

"  Eventually." 

"  Eventually  !  Now  whativer  does  ta  mean  ?  " 

"  I  mean  that  they  are  gone  abroad  for  some 
months." 

"  Gone  abroad  !  Gone  abroad  !  What  non 
sense  !  Where  hev  they  gone  to?  " 

"  To  Paris  first,  and  then  to  Rome." 

"  Well,  that  caps  all  I  ever  heard  of.  Paris 
and  Rome  !  Joe  ought  to  be  'shamed  o'  him- 
sen.  He  knows  what  I  think  o'  such  carryings 
on.  I  sud  hev  thought  London  and  Edin 
burgh  might  hev  been  good  enough  for  'em." 

"  Are   not    Abana    and    Pharpar,    rivers    of 


9°  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

Damascus,  better  than  all  the  waters  of  Israel  ?  * 
quoted  Perkins,  for  the  moment  quite  well 
pleased  with  his  own  adaptation.  But  Amos 
did  not  understand  the  allusion,  and  he  an 
swered  with  some  asperity,  "  What  ista  saying  ? 
Them  sound  varry  like  Bible  words." 

"  They  are  Bible  words." 

"Then  what  is  ta  using  'em  here  for?  Thy 
office  isn't  a  fit  place  to  be  talking  of  t'  Bible 
in,  I  sud  think.  When  is  Joe  coming  back  to 
England  ?  " 

"  Now  then,  Amos,  I  am  not  thy  catechism  ; 
and  I'm  partic'lar  busy  this  morning.  There  is 
going  to  be  a  big  fight  between  John  Henry 
\Vade  and  Timothy  Crawley  about  t'  right  and 
t'  wrong  of  their  spinning-jenny  patent ;  and 
I  hev  to  tak'  a  hand  in  it." 

"  Hes  ta  ?  Then  I'm  sorry  for  t'  man,  who- 
iver  he  is,  as  thou  art  going  to  mak'  out  to  be 
t'  varry  biggest  blackguard  in  a'  England." 

The  compliment  was  fully  appreciated  by 
Perkins;  and  it  put  him  in  a  good  humor. 
He  rose  and  laid  his  hand  upon  Amos  in  a 
very  friendly  way.  "  Listen  to  me  a  bit,"  he 
said.  "  Don't  'ee  worry  thysen  about  Joe 
Braithwaite.  He's  done  a  grand  thing  in  wed- 


MASTER  AND  MISTRESS  OF  BRADLEY.      91 

ding  Edith  Bradley.  Why,  a  tell  thee,  Amos, 
he  may  be  i'  Parliament  at  t'  next  general 
election.  I'll  back  him  for  it.  Thou  ought  to 
be  proud  o'  such  a  lad.  He  does  thy  bringing 
up  a  deal  o'  credit.  And  thou  ought  to  hev 
been  at  his  wedding,  and  sent  him  off  wi'  a 
thousand  pounds  in  his  pocket.  I  wish  ta  hed." 

"  I  dare  say  ta  does,  seeing  thou  wouldn't 
hev  been  any  loser  by  it.  Good  morning  to 
thee." 

"  Good  morning,  Amos.  Thou  may  tak' 
things  middling  comfortable  about  Joe  now; 
my  word  for  it." 

"  Don't  thee  charge  me  for  thy  word  ;  mind 
that.  I  didn't  come  here  to  ask  thee  for  it. 
I'll  not  pay  owt  for  it." 

In  the  main,  Joe  was  at  this  time  quite  of 
the  same  opinion  as  Perkins,  with  regard  to  his 
marriage.  True,  there  had  been  several  slight 
disagreements  before  the  ceremony  with  regard 
to  its  arrangements.  Perhaps,  with  reason, 
Joe  had  felt  Edith  to  have  been  more  positive 
than  he  liked  ;  but  then  a  woman  may  surely 
be  positive  about  a  circumstance  so  directly 
and  distinctly  personal.  Still  she  had  failed 
him  on  a  point  equally  important  to  his  own 


92  MAS7^ER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

feelings.  For  he  had  wished  her  to  write  to 
his  father  and  aunt,  and  try  to  conciliate  them 
a  little  ;  and  her  firm  refusal  to  do  so  had  pained 
him  very  much.  The  glory  of  his  marriage 
feast  was  dimmed  by  their  absence,  and  he  was 
almost  painfully  conscious  of  the  exclusively 
Bradley  influence. 

Edith  had  reigned  at  Bradley  Court  as  sole 
mistress,  and  the  habit  of  authority  was  easily 
confirmed  in  a  woman  of  her  temper.  And 
whatever  power  she  might  delegate  to  Joe  after 
their  union,  it  was  very  evident  he  could  not 
assume  any  control  before  it.  So  that,  neces 
sarily,  he  was  frequently  placed  in  a  position 
apparently  subordinate  to  Edith.  However, 
men  in  love  generally  assume  with  voluntary 
eagerness  just  this  part,  and  Joe,  as  a  lover,  was 
scarcely  averse  to  Edith's  pretty,  masterful 
ways. 

And  after  she  became  his  wife,  circumstances 
for  a  time  were  all  in  Joe's  favor.  They  were 
nearly  a  year  upon  the  continent,  travelling  in 
countries  whose  language  Edith  could  not 
speak.  But  Joe,  in  spite  of  his  father's  opposi 
tion,  had  managed  to  acquire  a  very  fair  knowl 
edge  of  French  and  German,  and  Edith  was 


MASTER  AND  MISTRESS  OF  BRADLEY.      93 

therefore  compelled  to  rely  entirely  upon  him 
in  all  the  exigencies  of  travel  and  dangers  of 
:,  foreign  shopping. 

So  during  their  ten  months  of  travel  Joe  had 
'  everything  very  much  his  own  way.  In  all 
their  movements  Edith  deferred,  with  a  charm 
ing  air  of  reliance,  to  his  judgment ;  and  Joe 
found  a  certain  pleasure  in  very  often  relinquish 
ing  his  judgment  for  her  desires. 

But  when  Edith  returned  to  Bradley  she  was 
on  her  native  ground,  and  she  quietly  but 
firmly  resumed  the  power  she  had  temporarily 
abdicated.  Nor  could  Joe  very  well  complain. 
He  knew  nothing  of  the  affairs  of  Bradley 
Manor,  and  Edith  knew  all  its  sources  of  rev 
enue,  knew  the  capabilities  of  every  acre,  the 
net  results  of  meadow  and  corn  land,  and  the 
probable  amount  of  rent. 

The  day  after  their  arrival  at  home,  Perkins 
came  to  Bradley  Court  and  had  a  long  inter 
view  with  its  mistress.  Joe  happened  to  be  at 
the  stables  when  the  consultation  began,  and 
when  he  returned  to  the  house  no  one  remem 
bered  to  call  him  to  it.  And  the  young  hus 
band  was  too  proud,  perhaps  too  offended,  to 
make  any  claim  to  a  privilege  not,  under  the 


94  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

circumstances,  offered  him.  He  waited  half  an 
hour,  in  hopes  of  being  summoned,  and  then 
ordered  his  horse  and  rode  into  Leeds  to  see 
Martha  Thrale. 

He  had  some  fine  lace  for  her,  and  a  Roman 
brooch  ;  and  the  dear  old  lady  was  not  proof 
against  such  a  peace  offering.  She  kissed  Joe 
tenderly,  and  he  was  glad  of  this  evidence  of  a 
love,  long-suffering  and  faithful,  even  through 
slight  and  neglect.  For  he  had  not  written  to 
her  at  all  while  he  was  away,  and  there  was 
still  a  little  heartburning  about  her  absence 
from  Joe's  wedding.  She  had  only  wanted  a 
little  personal  urging  from  Joe  and  Edith,  and 
they  had  not  given  it.  So  in  her  heart  she 
believed  that  she  was  not  really  wanted  ;  that, 
in  fact,  they  were  both  a  bit  ashamed  of  her 
homely  speech  and  unfashionable  ways. 

But  all  her  anger  vanished  when  Joe  took 
her  hands,  and  stooped  his  handsome  head  for 
her  welcoming  kiss.  She  was  pleased  with  his 
remembrance  and  willing  to  forget  her  own 
sense  of  wrong.  She  asked  many  questions 
about  Edith,  and  in  the  course  of  conversation 
learned  of  Perkins's  visit. 

It  was  the  first  thing  which  brought  a  cloud 


MASTER  AND  MISTRESS   OF  BRADLEY.      95 

upon  her  sunny  face.  "  Thou  sud  hev  taken 
thy  proper  place,  Joe,  this  morning,  and  that 
was  at  thy  wife's  side.  Thou  hes  made  a  big 
mistake,  I  fear  me." 

"  I  was  not  asked  to  take  it.  And  when  I 
heard  them  counting  money,  I  did  not  care  to 
seem  to  make  a  claim  about  it,  so  I  thought  I 
would  come  over  and  see  you  for  an  hour.  At 
any  rate,  if  I  have  to  speak  to  Edith  on  this 
matter,  it  is  better  to  do  so  when  we  are  alone. 
I  never  trusted  in  Perkins's  friendship." 

"  Now,  then,  I'll  tell  thee  what  will  happen. 
When  ta  gets  home,  Edith  will  be  on  her  dig 
nity  a  bit,  or  else  she'll  be  heving  a  'hurt' 
feeling  at  thee.  She'll  pretend  that  thou  doesn't 
like  business,  and  that  thou  got  out  of  t'  way 
of  it  by  coming  to  see  me.  Thou  hes  played 
into  her  hand,  my  lad,  finely." 

"You  see,  aunt,  she  might  be  settling  up 
with  Perkins.  I  can  attend  to  her  business 
quite  as  well  as  he  can  for  the  future.  If  they 
were  having  a  final  settlement,  it  was  better 
for  me  not  to  interfere." 

"  Does  ta  really  believe  that  Perkins  will  give 
up  to  thee?  Not  if  he  can  help  it.  Now,  then, 
stand  up  for  thy  rights,  Joe.  Edith  is  that  kind 


96  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

of  woman  as  will  think  the  better  of  thee  for 
it." 

And,  somehow,  though  Martha  had  not  in 
tended  to  do  so,  she  sent  Joe  home  with  a 
slight  sense  of  injury  in  his  heart,  and  a  slight 
stubbornness  of  will  in  regard  to  his  own  future- 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THINGS   THAT   TROUBLE. 

Alas,  how  light  a  cause  may  move 
Dissension  between  hearts  that  love  ! 

He  that  lacks  time  to  mourn  lacks  time  to  mend 
Eternity  mourns  that.     'Tis  an  ill  cure 
For  life's  worst  ills  to  have  no  time  to  feel  them. 
Where  sorrow's  held  intrusive  and  turned  out, 
There  wisdom  will  not  enter,  nor  true  power, 
Nor  aught  that  dignifies  humanity. 

FROM  his  conversation  with  Martha  Thrale, 
Joe  rode  home  in  a  thoughtful  and  de 
spondent  mood,  for  when  warning  or  doubtful 
speeches  hit  us  hard  it  is  generally  because 
there  is  some  similar  doubt  or  warning  in  our 
own  breasts.  And  Joe  did  feel  dissatisfied  as 
to  his  position  and  uncertain  as  to  his  move 
ments. 

At  Edith's  request  he  had  closed  his  office  in 
Leeds  before  their  marriage  ;  and  though  noth 
ing  had  been  said  on  the  subject  he  naturally 
expected  to  have  the  charge  of  the  Bradley 


98  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

Manor  estate.  Also,  very  naturally,  Perkins 
had  no  desire  to  relinquish  so  profitable  a  part 
of  his  business.  So  something  very  like  the 
conversation  which  Martha  Thrale  anticipated 
had  really  taken  place  that  morning. 

With  words  of  praise  for  Joe's  generous,  gay 
disposition,  he  had  nevertheless  managed  to 
make  Edith  feel  that  this  very  gaiety  and 
generosity  were  in  opposition  to  the  steady, 
solid  qualities  necessary  for  the  welfare  of  her 
farms  and  investments.  She  was  strongly  con- 
servative  by  nature.  She  preferred  the  same 
people  and  the  same  methods ;  she  distrusted 
change  of  every  kind,  and  she  had,  perhaps, 
too  high  an  opinion  of  her  own  business  tact, 
and  too  low  an  estimate  of  her  husband's.  It 
was  Perkins's  interest  to  strengthen  both  these 
views,  and  he  did  not  scruple  to  administer  the 
amount  of  flattery  and  distrust  suitable  to  his 
policy. 

"  I  hev  hed  t'  entire  charge  o'  Bradley  Manor 
for  more  years  than  you  hev  been  in  t'  world, 
Mrs.  Braithwaite,"  he  said,  "  and  my  father  hed 
it  before  me.  There  isn't  a  rood  of  land  I 
don't  know  t'  full  value  of ;  and  as  for  t'  leases 
that  are  running,  and  falling  in,  it  is  summut 


THINGS    THAT    TROUBLE.  99 

like  an  education  to  be  up  wi'  them.  Mr. 
Braithwaite  is  the  best  o'  good  men,  kind- 
hearted  and  generous  beyond  iverything ;  but 
it  isn't  kindness  and  generosity  that  will  make 
Bradley  pay.  A  landlord,  or  lady,  hes  to  be  a 
bit  hard  these  times  to  get  their  money  back ; 
and  you  hev  some  tenants,  ma'am,  as  would 
just  tak'  their  awn  way  wi'  Mr.  Braithwaite,  that 
is,  unless  you  make  out  to  do  the  business 
yourself ;  for  I  will  say  that  there  are  varry  few 
lawyers  in  Yorkshire  that  could  do  it  better 
than  you,  or  be  a  bit  more  prompt  and  even- 
handed  in  a'  their  ways." 

"  If  you  think  Mr.  Braithwaite  is  not  able  to 
manage  Bradley  yet,  Perkins,  why,  then,  I  shall 
not  try  to  do  what  you  fear  unadvisable  for 
him  to  attempt.  It  would  be  placing  my  hus 
band  in  a  very  peculiar  position." 

"  Naturally." 

"  So  you  had  better  retain  your  charge  fot 
this  year  at  any  rate.  During  the  interval  Mr. 
Braithwaite  will  have  time  to  become  familiar 
with  the  tenants  and  the  land." 

This  appeared  to  be  a  fair  and  thoughtful  ar 
rangement  both  for  the  estate  and  the  master 
of  it  ;  and  Edith  explained  it  to  her  husband  in 


ioo  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

her  very  sweetest  way.  But  Joe  did  not  receive 
the  explanation  with  the  gay  indifference  of  a 
man  whose  sole  business  in  life  was  to  get  rid 
of  trouble  and  enjoy  himself.  He  grew  white 
with  anger.  He  said  very  plainly  that  he 
thought  his  wishes  in  the  matter  ought  to  have 
been  consulted,  and  he  added,  with  some  sense 
of  injury,  that  he  did  not  like  his  wife  taking 
his  business  aptitudes  at  the  valuation  Joshua 
Perkins  chose  to  put  upon  them. 

They  had  had  little  disagreements  before, 
but  when  a  disagreement  includes  serious 
money  considerations,  as  well  as  a  personal 
slight,  it  has  in  it  elements  of  heart-burning 
not  easily  soothed.  And  ignoring  a  household 
offence  does  not  by  any  means  cure  it.  Joe 
did  not  again  allude  to  Perkins,  and  Edith  en 
deavored  to  make  her  interviews  with  him  as 
unobtrusive  as  possible,  yet  both  were  con 
scious  of  the  perpetual  wrong  inflicted  by  this 
want  of  mutual  confidence  and  interest. 

However,  Joe  had  naturally  a  hopeful  heart, 
and  his  gay  temper  and  fine  health  combined 
with  it  made  him  turn  with  readiness,  in  the 
main,  to  the  brighter  side  of  his  position.  He 
was  soon  an  immense  favorite  with  the  gentle- 


THINGS    THAT   TROUBLE.  IOI 

men  in  his  neighborhood.  If  there  were  a 
county  ball,  or  hunt,  or  public  dinner,  or  polit 
ical  meeting,  Mr.  Braithwaite,  of  Bradley 
Court,  was  sure  to  have  the  management  of 
the  many  troublesome  details  necessary  to  its 
success. 

And  for  a  little  while  Edith  was  pleased  and 
flattered  by  this  social  eclat  and  favor.  It  was 
a  kind  of  popular  endorsement  of  the  wisdom 
of  her  marriage.  For  in  her  deepest  conscious 
ness  she  was  often  uneasy  on  this  point.  She 
knew  that  her  father  had  planned  a  much 
grander  lot  for  her.  He  had  fully  expected 
that  her  fortune  would  buy  her  a  title,  and  give 
her  through  a  noble  husband  the  freedom  of 
those  charmed  circles  which  his  own  birth  and 
education  prevented  him  from  entering.  So, 
though  she  was  unaware  of  his  hatred  of  Joe's 
father,  she  was  nevertheless  very  certain  that 
her  marriage  with  Joe  would  have  been  a  great 
disappointment  to  him. 

For  a  few  months  then  she  was  pleased  and 
flattered  by  her  husband's  popularity.  She 
liked  to  go  to  balls  over  which  he  exercised  a 
mimic  sovereignty.  It  was  something  to  see 
noblemen  ask  his  advice,  and  noble  ladies 


102  MASTER    OF  HIS  FATE. 

defer  to  his  wishes,  even  on  such  trivial  mat 
ters  as  a  hunt  dinner  or  a  masquerade.  But 
all  earthly  honors  and  pleasures  have  this  great 
drawback  :  they  are  dependent  upon  circum 
stances,  and  they  lose  their  value  and  charm 
when  these  circumstances  change.  In  time, 
the  very  certainty  of  Joe's  position,  and  the 
general  favor  in  which  he  was  held,  deprived 
the  small  social  triumphs  of  all  their  value. 

Through  them  Joe  had  attained  his  position, 
but  when  it  was  won  the  steps  to  it  were  an 
offence  to  Edith.  She  began  to  feel  that  Mr. 
Braithwaite  was  imposed  upon  in  such  matters. 
She  ignored  the  fact  that  his  social  standing 
had  been  obtained  through  his  gracious  wil 
lingness  to  oblige,  his  fine  tact  and  taste,  his 
handsome  appearance  and  good  manners.  It 
became  the  habit  of  her  mind  to  consider  the 
real  source  of  Joe's  honor  was  that  he  was  the 
nominal  lord  of  Bradley  Manor.  She  pre 
ferred  to  think  Joe  drew  all  from  her  love, 
rather  than  from  the  approbation  of  Sir 
Thomas  Wilson  or  Lady  Charlton. 

For  some  weeks  Joe  had  perceived  her  dis 
satisfaction.  Lady  Charlton's  notes  were 
tossed  aside  with  contempt,  and  when  the 


THINGS    THAT   TROUBLE.  103 

baron  called  for  Joe's  opinion  or  Joe's  com 
pany  she  did  not,  as  at  first,  array  herself 
splendidly  and  charm  the  nobleman  with  her 
delicate  hospitality  and  gracious  kindness. 
But  in  the  middle  of  the  winter  festivities  she 
spoke  to  Joe  very  plainly  on  the  subject.  They 
were  sitting  at  breakfast,  and  he  handed  her 
a  note  from  Charlton  Castle.  Sir  William  was 
going  to  dine  at  the  Coursing  Club,  and  of 
course  the  dinner  would  be  incomplete  without 
Mr.  Braithwaite,  and  Lady  Charlton  besought 
his  advice  in  reference  to  the  ball  which  was  to 
close  the  entertainment,  etc.  There  was  also  a 
very  charming  note  to  Edith,  but  this  morning 
it  was  received  with  even  more  than  her  late 
indifference. 

"You  will  go,  Edith?" 

"  No,  I  shall  not  go.  They  simply  ask  me 
in  order  to  secure  your  services.  Lady  Charl 
ton  was  barely  civil  to  me  at  their  last  dinner 
party." 

"  Really,  Edith,  I  thought  it  was  you  who 
were  barely  civil." 

"  Joe,  let  us  understand  each  other  on  this 
subject.  I  think  you  have  been  an  unpaid 
steward  for  every  one's  entertainments  quite 


104  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

long  -enough.  If  our  acceptance  in  county 
society  depends  upon  your  being  a  kind  of 
lackey  to  Lady  Wilson  and  Lady  Charlton,  I 
think  we  had  better  retire  from  so  humiliating 
a  position." 

"  Certainly,  if  that  is  the  way  you  look  at  it, 
retire  at  once.  But  I  want  you  to  know, 
Edith,  that  nothing  could  induce  me  to  lackey 
any  lady  in  the  sense  you  seem  to  infer." 

His    cup  was  in   his  hand ;  he  set  it    down 
with  a  little  temper,  and  rose   from  the  table, 
though    the    meal    was    not    finished.       Edith 
glanced   into   his  white,  angry   face,  and  then 
added  in  her  most  deliberate  way:     "  There  is 
great  need  of  our  economizing.     There  are  t\vo 
leases  out,  and  Perkins  says  the  farms  will  have 
to  be    re-let    for   a   much    smaller    sum.     The 
stables  require  at  least  £100  spent  upon  them, 
and  all  the   fencing  on  Croftlands  needs  paint 
ing,  as  you  have  probably  noticed." 
"  I  have  not  noticed  Croftlands  at  all." 
"You  might  have  done  so,  I  think." 
"But  why?     It  is  not  my  place.     You  pay 
Perkins  to  use  his  eyes." 

"  You  could  use  yours  also ;  the  best  paid 
service  will  bear  looking  after." 


THINGS    THAT    TROUBLE.  105 

"  Edith,  if  I  am  not  able  to  manage  your 
property  I  will  not  be  a  spy  upon  a  man  whom 
you  affect  to  trust.  If  I  were  in  Perkins's 
place,  would  you  set  Perkins  to  look  after  my 
work?  But  it  is  not  Perkins,  but  Lady  Charl- 
ton,  that  I  am  interested  in  at  present.  Will 
you  go  to  Charlton  on  the  i8th  or  not?" 

"  Since  you  put  it  in  that  form,  I  say  most 
decidedly  I  shall  not  go." 

"  Then,  of  course,  I  also  shall  refuse." 

"Your  refusal  can  be  no  real  loss  to  you. 
Chasing  a  poor  trembling  hare  to  its  death,  or 
making  a  complimentary  speech  at  a  dinner,  or 
even  ordering  a  cotillon,  are  very  poor  pleas 
ures,  I  should  think,  when  they  become  a  kind 
of  steady  business." 

"  You  never  spoke  any  truer  words,  Edith," 
and  he  walked  to  the  window  and  looked 
gloomily  into  the  white  park,  with  its  sombre 
beauty  of  leafless  trees  and  unbroken  snow. 
Will  it  be  believed  that  he  was  remembering 
at  that  moment,  with  a  genuine  regret,  the 
great  mill  at  Market  Bevin,  and  longing  for 
the  stir  of  its  traffic  and  the  stimulating  tumult 
of  its  looms  and  hands? 

"Chasing a  hare,  making  a  speech, ordering  a 


106  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

cotillon,"  the  words  left  an  echo  in  his  ear  and 
in  his  heart  which  would  not  die.  He  felt  a 
shame  that  stung  him  like  a  whip,  and  he 
wanted  to  bear  it  in  solitude. 

"  I  am  going  to  drive  over  to  Leeds,"  he 
said.  "  Is  there  any  thing  I  can  do  for  you  ?  " 

"  What  are  you  going  to  Leeds  for  ?  " 

"  I  want  to  go.  I  really  have  no  other 
motive." 

"  You  want  to  see  that  old  woman  who  lives 
there." 

"  If  you  mean  Aunt  Martha,  I  suppose  I  do 
want  to  see  her.  I  have  not  called  upon  her 
since  Christmas." 

"  Then  you  need  do  nothing  for  me.  I  shall 
not  mix  my  affairs  up  with  her  in  any  way. 
By  all  means  make  her  paramount." 

It  was  not  a  very  pleasant  concession  to  his 
desire,  but  that  morning  Joe  did  not  mind  it 
much.  A  sudden  disgust  for  his  aimless,  use 
less  life  had  fallen  upon  him.  When  he  found 
himself  in  Martha  Thrale's  home  the  feeling 
deepened.  Her  house  was  full  of  boarders. 
The  comfort  of  a  great  many  people  was  in 
busy  hands.  But  she  was  very  cheerful  amid 
her  pleasant  cares,  and  quite  proud  of  the 


THINGS    THAT    TROUBLE.  107 

handsome  profit  she  was  making.  Perhaps 
her  life  interests  were  not  great,  but  they 
sufficed  her,  and  she  really  looked  happier  than 
the  fortunate  bridegroom  of  twelve  months 
ago. 

She  spread  Joe  a  little  lunch,  and  then  sat 
watching  him  as  he  trifled  with  his  knife  and 
fork.  "  Why,  Joe,  thou  doesn't  eat.  What's 
t'  matter  wi'  thee  ?  And  thou  doesn't  look 
well.  Try  and  eat  a  bit,  my  lad." 

"  I  am  not  hungry,  Aunt  Martha  ;  and  I'm  a 
bit  worried  beside." 

"  Now  then,  Joe,  if  t'  worry  is  about  Edith 
Braithwaite  don't  tell  me.  I  hevn't  a  word  to 
say  between  a  man  and  his  wife." 

"  It  is  not  about   Edith.     It  is  about  work." 

"  Work  !  Now  thou  caps  me  !  Whativer  hes 
thou  to  do  ?  " 

"  That  is  the  trouble.  I  have  nothing  to  do. 
I  am  wearied  to  death  for  want  of  work. 
Going  to  hunts  and  dinners  and  balls  isn't 
work.  I  don't  know  how  men  manage  to 
spend  all  their  seventy-five  years  amusing  them 
selves." 

"  Ay,  lad  ;  and  at  t'  end  they'll  hev  to  ac 
count  for  t'  time.  God  isn't  g-oinsr  to  take  this 


108  MASTER  OF  HIS  FATE. 

for  a  good  bill  o'  reckoning,  Item :  '  spent 
upon  my  awn  pleasures  a'  my  life  long.'  ' 

"  I  am  tired  of  living  for  amusement,  Aunt 
Martha;  I  am  ashamed  of  it." 

"  Well,  then,  it  is  t'  best  news  I  hev  heard 
o*  thee  for  a  long  time.  What  is  ta  going  to 
do?  Thinking  isn't  much  use.  What  is  ta  going 
to  do?" 

"  I  do  not  know." 

"  Then  try  and  find  out.  Isn't  thy  awn  busi 
ness  good  enough  for  thee  ?  " 

"  I  spoke  once  about  it,  but  Edith  will  not 
hear  tell  of  such  a  thing.  I  should  have  to 
begin  in  Leeds  again  ;  there  is  no  nearer  place. 
I  did  not  succeed  before,  what  hope  is  there 
for  me  now  ?  Every  one  would  say,  his  own 
wife  does  not  trust  him  with  her  affairs,  how 
can  we  trust  him?  " 

"Isn't  ta  going  to  manage  Bradley  Manor 
next  year?  " 

"  I  shall  not  ask  for  it ;  and  Perkins  has 
succeeded  in  making  Edith  believe  it  will  be 
ruin  for  any  one  but  himself  to  manage  it. 
You  see,  Perkins's  father  had  it  in  his  hands 
before  Bradley  bought  the  place.  And  Edith 
dreads  change.  If  Bradley  were  in  my  care,  I 


THINGS   THAT   TROUBLE.  109 

should  have  a  hard  time,  I  think.  She  would 
be  fearful  of  all  I  did,  and  perhaps  going 
quietly  to  Perkins  for  advice.  You  can  see 
how  it  would  be  likely  to  make  trouble  between 
us.  That  is  the  reason  I  do  not  urge  my  right 
to  control  it.  Edith  has  a  very  poor  opinion 
of  my  business  ability  ;  perhaps  she  is  right, 
aunt.  I  am  a  bit  of  a  failure,  so  far,  I  think." 

"  Thou  art  nowt  of  t'  sort.  Thou  hes  been 
in  t'  wrong  road,  and  doing  t'  wrong  work, 
and  nobody  can  mak'  wrong  come  out 
right.  Thou  hesn't  either  t'  head  or  t'  heart 
fit  for  one.  Can  ta  talk  out  o'  both  sides  o'  thy 
mouth  like  Tom  Halifax  can  ?  Can  ta  bam 
boozle  folk  as  Perkins  can,  till  they  arn't 
sure  whether  they  can  add  two  and  two 
together  unless  he  shows  'em  t'  way  to  do  it?" 

"  Very  well  ;  if  I  am  not  a  lawyer,  what 
am  I?" 

"  I  suppose  thou  art  what  folks  call  a  gentle 
man  at  present.  But  I  don't  think  that  is  what 
thou  hes  a  taste  for.  Thou  wer'  meant  to  be  a 
man,  and  do  a  man's  work.  Thy  brains  are 
spinning  brains,  and  thy  hands  are  spinning 
hands,  and  thousud  be  in  Bevin  Mill  thisvarry 
minute.  Why-a  !  when  thou  was  but  ten  years 


no  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

old  thou  tried  to  mak'  a  loom,  and  as  for  dyeing 
yarns,  thou  kept  me  in  a  mortal  fright  wi'  thy 
experiments  when  ta  was  learning  chemistry." 

"  Yet  you  wanted  me  to  be  a  preacher  ?  " 

"  Ay,  but  that's  a  different  thing.  Each  man 
hes  a  talent  for  one  special  kind  o'  handy 
work  ;  but  ivery  man  ought  to  hev  a  talent  for 
serving  God." 

"And  when  I  said  I  would  not  go  to  the 
mill,  you  said  I  was  right,  and  stood  by  me." 

"  For  sure  I  did ;  and  I'm  not  t'  first  woman 
that  iver  set  her  temper  above  her  reason.  I 
sud  hev  hed  sense  enough  to  put  things  on 
their  right  footing.  I  sud  hev  reasoned  t' 
matter  out  like  this  :  Amos  Braithwaite  is 
aggravatingly  masterful,  and  Joe  is  going 
against  him  just  because  he  is  determined  to 
show  he'll  hev  some  o'  his  awn  way.  Going  to 
t'  mill  was  t'  biggest  thing  thou  could  cross  thy 
father  in,  and  young  men  of  twenty-two  like  to 
feel  their  liberty  to  mak'  or  mar  their  life  as  it 
pleases  them.  And  I  wer'  a  bit  tired  mysen 
o'  thy  father's  hectoring,  and  whenta  said  thou 
wouldn't  go  to  t'  mill,  I  wer'  bound  to  stand  by 
thee,  right  or  wrong." 

"  But  you  thought  I  was  right?  " 


THINGS    THAT    TROUBLE.  HI 

"  Sometimes  I  thought  thou  was  right, 
sometimes  I  feared  thou  was  wrong.  And  a 
few  months  ago  I  met  Tony  Warps  and  John 
Thomas  Mason,  thy  old  companions,  and  they 
told  me  that  thou  hed  allays  said  to  them  thou 
wert  going  into  Bevin  Mill  ;  and  they  reck 
oned  it  took  t'  breath  from  them  with  surprise 
when  they  heard  o'  thee  taking  up  with  t'  law 
business.  So  ta  sees  I  hev  been  putting  this 
and  that  together,  and  I  hev  come^  to  t'  con- 
elusion  that  t'  law  wer'  just  a  suggestion  of  t' 
devil's  that  night  when  thee  and  thy  father 
were  quarreling." 

"  Well,  it  is  past  remedy  now." 

"  I  don't  think  so  at  all.  At  t'  last  end  a 
man  can  allays  go  in  for  politics  and  Par 
liament.  I  sud  think  law  and  politics  would 
be  ringer  and  thumb.  But  I'll  tell  thee  what, 
Joe,  thou  isn't  made  for  running  wi'  dogs,  nor 
dawdling  after  ladies,  no,  nor  even  for  carrying 
Mrs.  Braithwaite's  purse,  and  looking  after  her 
fences.  Thou  hes  thy  awn  work  to  do.  And 
now  that  thou  art  sick  o'  playing  t'  fine  gentle 
man,  I  think  thou  will  do  it." 

"  If  I  only  knew  what  my  work  was  !  " 

"  Look    about    thee.       Don't    tak'    t'    first 


H2  MASTER  OF  HIS  FATE. 

thought  that  comes  into  thy  head.  First 
thoughts  are  mostly  foolish  ones.  If  thy  tem 
per  would  hev  let  thee  hold  thy  tongue  that 
night  thou  said  thou  would  be  a  lawyer  thy 
second  thought  wouldn't  hev  made  a  fool  of 
thee." 

"  But  everyday  is  of  importance  to  me  now." 

"  Ay,  thou  art  right  in  a  general  way.  Every 
day  is  a  little  life,  my  lad.  Old  Jacob  num 
bered  his  life  by  days,  and  Moses  asked  God  to 
teach  him  t'  same  kind  of  arithmetic,  to  num 
ber,  not  his  years,  but  his  days.  Joe,  thou  will 
do  well  yet.  I  hev  heart  trust  in  thee.  But 
don't  thee  forget  among  bigger  things  to  eat 
thy  meat  and  tak'  thy  sleep.  Grandest  plans 
that  were  iver  made  hang  a  good  deal  on  eating 
and  sleeping.  Thou  hasn't  eat  any  thing  worth 
speaking  of." 

"  I  was  not  hungry,  Aunt  Martha  ;  and  I 
sleep  well  enough.  I  am  not  one  to  let  day's 
worry  drive  away  night's  sleep." 

"  Thou  would  be  a  fool  if  ta  did.  Any  man 
lives  miserable  that  lies  down  at  night  like  a 
camel  under  his  burden.  Is  ta  going?  Well, 
God  bless  thee !  And  after  all,  Joe,  t'  varry 


THINGS    THAT    TROUBLE.  113 

best  advice  I  hev  for  thee  is,  '  Commit  thy  way 
unto  the  Lord,'  and  if  He  directs  thy  path, 
then,  my  dear  lad,  thou  will  be  well  provided 
for  both  worldSc" 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

LIFE  AT   BRADLEY   COURT. 

itfow  let  us  thank  the  Eternal  power, 

That  oft  the  cloud  which  wraps  the  present  hour 

Serves  but  to  brighten  all  our  future  days. 

/appy  are  they  that  hear  their  own  detractions  and  can  put 
them  to  mending. — SHAKSPEARE. 

IF  the  conception  of  all  good  resolutions 
met  with  no  hindrances,  but  progressed 
steadily  towards  their  realization,  how  broad 
and  easy  would  be  the  path  of  progress.  But 
the  rule  seems  to  be  a  persistent  set  of  all 
unfavorable  elements  against  any  effort  whose 
goal  is  a  loftier  ideal.  In  the  first  place  Joe's 
aspirations  were  yet  vague  and  unformed. 
Only  one  point  was  determinate  in  his  mind — 
his  independence. 

He  foresaw,  even  thus  early,  that  if  he  con 
tinued  a  passive  sharer  of  Edith's  wealth  she) 
would  learn  to  regard  him  with  something  very 
like  contempt.     He  did  not  blame  her  much. 


LIFE   AT  BRADLEY  COURT,  115 

He  felt  that  in  their  case  the  natural  order  of 
reliance  had  been  reversed.  When  they  were 
lovers  this  condition  had  been  invested  with 
a  certain  glamour.  Edith  was  then  in  a  royal 
mood.  All  that  she  had  was  too  little  for 
Joe's  deserts;  besides,  for  there  is  generally  a 
weak  spot  in  our  grandest  resignations,  she  did 
not  think  it  likely  that  Joe's  father  would  be 
long  at  variance  with  his  only  child.  And  she 
had  heard  of  the  wealth  of  Amos  Braithwaite. 
At  the  end,  she  felt  assured,  she  would  have 
done  very  well  for  herself. 

The  attitude  Amos  took  at  their  marriage 
was  a  disappointment  to  her  ;  but  in  the  honey 
moon  days  it  was  a  circumstance  to  be  treated 
lightly,  and  even  hopefully.  She  still  expected 
some  wonder  of  forgiveness  and  generosity 
from  her  husband's  father.  She  thought  any 
reasonable  man  would  look  over  the  offence  of 
a  son  who  had  brought  him  so  desirable  a 
daughter-in-law. 

But  as  week  after  week  went  by,  her  feeling 
toward  Amos  became  an  actively  angry  one. 
She  considered  herself  insulted  by  his  attitude. 
She  began  to  fear  that  the  threat  of  Joe's  dis 
inheritance  was  one  the  old  man  meant  to> 


Il6  MASTER  OF  HIS  FATE. 

carry  out.  And  whenever  she  had  any  small 
losses,  or  was  fretted  about  money  matters,  she 
made  little  speeches  of  spite  and  disappoint 
ment  about  him. 

Joe  would  not  listen  to  them.  In  spite  of 
their  foolish  quarrel,  he  had  a  strong  affection 
for  his  father.  Also,  he  looked  at  the  quarrel 
from  a  man's  standpoint.  Women  threaten 
the  greatest  extremities,  and  forget  every 
threat  in  the  concession  they  want.  But  Joe 
expected  his  father  to  do  precisely  as  he  had 
declared  he  would  do.  He  would  have  been 
quite  as  much  astonished  as  pleased  if  Amos 
had  "  backed  out  "  of  the  position  he  had  taken. 
And  Edith  had  frequently  been  told  so,  only 
a  woman's  desire  is  her  conviction.  So,  in 
spite  of  Joe's  assurances,  she  persisted  in  be 
lieving  that  the  dispute  between  father  and  son 
was  a  passing  affair.  She  urged  him  to  try 
and  meet  his  father,  to  give  him  an  opportunity 
to  see  and  to  speak  to  him. 

"You  could  pass  him  between  here  and 
Leeds  any  market  day,  and  you  ought  to  try 
to  do  so,  Joe,"  she  urged.  "  I  am  sure  all  that 
is  needed  for  a  reconciliation  is  an  interview." 

"I  don't  think  so.  Edith.     If  I  happened  to 


LIFE   AT  BRADLEY  COURT.  n? 

meet  father  when  he  was  in  a  certain  temper, 
he  would  pass  me  without  a  look ;  and  if 
he  did  it  once,  he  would  never  retreat  from 
that  attitude.  I  don't  want  to  bring  things  to 
such  a  plight  between  us.  It  is  better  not  to 
force  events.  And  I  could  not  deceive  fatner. 
He  would  know  it  was  not  an  accidental 
meeting,  and  if  he  spoke  at  all  it  would 
probably  be  to  ask  me  what  I  was  dogging  him 
round  for." 

"  He  must  be  a  brute." 

"  No,  he  is  not  a  brute.  He  is  a  stubborn 
man  who  thinks  a  deal  of  his  word.  He  would 
stand  to  it  though  it  meant  ruin  to  him. 
There  are  plenty  of  men  like  him.  I  don't 
know  but  in  his  place  I  should  do  the  same. 
And  it's  a  capital  thing  to  feel  certain  where 
you  have  a  man,  even  though  he  is  dead  set 
against  you." 

The  tendency  of  such  conversations  was  to 
gradually  increase  the  plainness  and  the  tem 
per  of  their  remarks ;  and  Joe  felt  all  the  bit 
terness  of  a  wrangle  which  touched  lives  so 
close  to  him,  and  which,  unfortunately,  seemed 
to  spring  from  his  peculiar  attitude  to  both. 

Yet  his  situation  was  so  fenced  in  by  social 


n&  MASTER    OF  HIS  FATE. 

bonds  and  obligations,  by  uncertainties  of  vari 
ous  kinds,  by  restricted  outlets,  and  want  of 
ready  money,  that  the  way  into  life's  larger 
lists  was  hard  to  find. 

The  summer  months  passed  away,  and  he 
could  do  nothing.  Edith  was  in  ill-health  ; 
she  went  to  Moffat  and  Matlock,  and  she  would 
go  nowhere  without  Joe.  But  even  amid  the 
idlers  and  pleasure-seekers  around  him,  a  steady 
purpose  was  hourly  growing  in  the  young  hus 
band's  heart.  Vague  as  the  first  sprouts  of 
some  unknown  plant  it  might  be  ;  but  there 
was  life  in  it,  and  the  intent  of  perfect  growth. 

In  his  position  the  avenues  leading  to  inde 
pendence  were  not  very  many ;  but  the  most 
impracticable  of  them  found  a  calm,  favorable 
welcome  in  Joe's  consciousness.  There  was, 
as  Martha  Thrale  had  suggested,  politics.  He 
could,  doubtless,  make  a  good  run  for  Parlia 
ment,  but  even  in  that  effort  he  would  be  be 
tween  the  horns  of  a  dilemma.  Edith  was  an 
intense  Conservative.  Amos  was  an  intense 
Radical.  He  could  not  employ  his  wife's 
money  against  her  own  party  and  prejudices. 
And,  though  Perkins  made  him  understand 
that  money  would  be  forthcoming  if  he  took 


LIFE   AT  BRADLEY   COURT.  119 

the  Radical  side,  Joe  did  not  like  the  idea  of 
an  election  quarrel  on  his  own  hearthstone. 

He  thought  of  a  commission  in  the  army. 
He  thought  of  borrowing  money  and  building 
a  mill.  He  thought,  in  a  furtive  and  frightened 
way,  of  California,  Australia,  Canada,  India. 
Edith  would  have  been  shocked  if  she  could 
have  divined  what  sombre  speculations  made 
her  husband  so  quiet  among  the  crowds  at 
Moffat  or  in  his  own  rooms  at  Bradley. 

The  next  winter  was  a  wretchedly  dull  one 
to  him.  He  had  withdrawn  from  the  hunts 
and  clubs  and  dinner  parties  of  the  previous 
season.  Edith  had  counted  up  their  cost  with 
ugly  knittings  of  her  black,  handsome  brows, 
and  Joe  had  no  mind  for  festivities  which  she 
would  neither  share  nor  approve,  and  which 
were  likely  to  be  preceded  and  followed  by 
domestic  disputes. 

But  as  Nature  sets  herself  instantly  to  repair 
any  wounded  part  of  the  body,  so  some  higher 
Power,  if  we  would  but  notice  it,  speedily  turns 
our  mistakes  this  side  and  that  side,  until  good 
can  be  wrought  from  some  of  their  phases. 
The  days  were  interminable  to  Joe,  so  he  took 
to  study.  Chemistry  had  always  fascinated 


1 2  o  MA  i"  TER    OF  HIS  FA'l  L . 

him ;  he  fitted  up  a  small  laboratory,  and  soon 
forgot  every  thing  in  the  charm  of  his  experi 
ments  and  hoped-for  discoveries.  It  is  true, 
they  were  usually  futile  and  disappointing,  as 
well  as  expensive,  but  hope  sprang  from  every 
failure,  and  Edith  had  sense  enough  to  under 
stand  that  these  things  were  far  more  economi 
cal  than  many  other  sources  of  recreation  open 
to  bored  and  weary  men. 

As  for  herself,  she  felt  no  ennui.  Independent 
of  the  charge  which  she  shared  with  Perkins, 
she  had  her  house  an  1  her  conservatory,  her 
toilet  and  her  visitors,  her  embroidery  and  her 
stated  charities,  besides  a  very  large  family  of 
pet  animals  and  birds.  Her  days  were  too 
short  for  all  the  small  cares  that  filled  them. 
And  these  she  would  gladly  have  shared  with 
Joe,  but  to  him  they  were  insignificant  and  un 
interesting.  How  could  a  man  on  the  verge  of 
discovering  a  new  color  feel  an  ardent  pleasure 
in  the  curls  of  a  pup  or  the  right  shades  of 
green  for  a  worsted  parrot  ? 

The  early  part  of  the  third  year  of  their  mar 
riage  was  brightened  by  an  event  which  for  a 
time  merged  all  interests  in  itself.  Edith  had 
a  son,  and  it  seemed  as  if  the  whole  neighbor- 


LIFE  A  T  BRA  DLE  Y  CO  UK  T.  1 2 1 

hood  was  delighted  to  rejoice  with  Bradley 
Court.  The  young  mother  and  the  beautiful 
boy  enjoyed  for  a  few  weeks  a  prominence  very 
pleasant  to  Edith,  and  for  the  time  she  con 
sidered  herself  an  exceptionally  happy  woman. 

But  however  proud  and  fond  Joe  was  of  his 
firstborn  son,  the  babe  could  not  fill  his  life  in 
the  same  way  as  it  filled  the  mother's  life.  Its 
advent  had  softened  his  heart,  and  made  him 
think  a  great  deal  of  his  own  father,  but  in  a 
few  weeks  he  went  back  with  a  fresh  delight  to 
his  books  and  retorts.  Even  for  the  child's 
sake  he  did  not  wish  to  be  a  mere  idler  and 
looker-on  among  the  world's  workers. 

Fully  to  his  own  heart,  and  partly  to  Martha 
Thrale,  he  had  admitted  the  mistake  made  upon 
that  unhappy  night  when  he  flung  away  his 
father's  love  and  his  fine  inheritance  for  the 
gratification  of  his  personal  pride  and  selfwill. 
But  the  fit  of  inaction  and  despair  which  usually 
follows  such  awakenings  was  a  short  one  in 
Joe's  case.  He  was  not  disposed  to  look  upon 
his  mistake  as  an  irrevocable  one.  He  had 
been  twice  on  the  verge  of  a  discovery  which 
promised  him  at  least  the  foundation  of  a  for 
tune  ;  and  he  was  one  of  those  men  who  can 


122  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

dog  after  an  idea  with  a  patience  that  is  al 
most  genius. 

Joe  was  gradually  working  his  way  towards 
that  stile  which  Providence  intended  him  to 
cross,  but  he  had  every  step  of  the  intervening 
road  to  take,  the  hard  and  the  easy,  the  hope 
ful  and  the  despairing.  Now  and  then  there 
were  days  in  which  Edith  expressed  a  little  in 
terest  in  his  studies  and  efforts,  and  then  he 
was  full  of  enthusiasm  ;  but  more  often  she 
was  scornful  at  his  failures  or  fretted  by  their 
waste  and  inutility. 

The  neighbors  with  whom  Joe  had  been 
such  a  favorite  talked  over  the  change  in  him 
with  a  tolerant  contempt.  Some  divined  the 
truth,  and  thought  him  wise  to  retire  from  a 
position  only  to  be  retained  by  his  wife's  con 
cession.  Others  attributed  his  strange  taste  to 
the  inherited  vulgarity  of  his  descent.  "  He  is 
a  born  tradesman,  with  mechanical  aptitudes," 
they  said.  "  He  has  gone  naturally  to  the 
dyeing  vats,  and  will  eventually  go  back  to  the 
looms."  The  air  and  tone  of  the  remark  was  a 
compliment  to  their  own  superior  tastes,  and 
in  the  feeling  of  self-satisfaction  it  induced 
they  rather  pitied  Joe,  especially  as  their  wives 


LTFE   AT  BRADLEY  COURT.  123 

were  inclined  to  say  those  disagreeable  things 
of  Mrs.  Joe  which  naturally  engage  the  sym 
pathies  of  more  fortunate  husbands. 

One  morning,  when  the  child  was  four 
months  old,  Edith  said,  "  The  bishop  is  to  be 
here  in  a  month  ;  suppose  we  christen  baby  at 
this  visitation." 

<;  I  think  it  would  be  a  very  good  thing  to 
do.  The  little  chap  ought  to  be  made  a  Chris 
tian  as  soon  as  possible." 

"  I  shall  send  to  London  for  a  robe  for  him. 
And  we  must  have  a  dinner  to  honor  the  event. 
About  the  name  now." 

"  Yes  ;  about  the  name." 

"  I  think  he  ought  to  be  called  after  my 
father." 

"  Why  so  ?" 

"  Well,  he  will  be  heir  to  all  father  made." 

"  I  hope  I  may  also  make  something  for 
him." 

"  Out  of  jars  and  retorts  ?  " 

"  Don't  be  scornful,  Edith.  Many  a  retort 
has  left  a  fine  residuum  of  gold  at  the  bottom." 

"  I  say  he  ought  to  be  called  Luke." 

"  I  would  rather  you  chose  any  other  name." 

"Why?" 


124  .MASTER  UF  HIS  FATE. 

11  A  man  who  bore  that  name  did  my  father 
a  great  many  wrongs.  I  am  sure  he  would 
regard  our  giving  it  to  the  child  as  an  insult  to 
himself." 

"  Ridiculous  !  Do  you  wish  him  called 
Amos  ?  " 

"  It  might  be  a  good  thing  to  call  him  Amos, 
but  I  will  not  ask  such  a  favor  as  that  of  you. 
I  only  stipulate  not  to  call  the  boy  Luke.  Any 
other  name  will  do." 

"  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  call  him 
Luke." 

"I  am  sorry  to  disappoint  you,  Edith,  but  I 
will  not  allow  my  son  to  bear  that  name." 

He  spoke  with  a  decision  that  made  Edith 
look  with  wonder  at  him,  and  the  set  calmness 
of  his  face  irritated  her.  She  reiterated  her 
resolve  with  much  warmth,  "  I  shall  certainly 
call  him  Luke." 

"  Then  I  shall  certainly  contradict,  even  at 
the  altar,  any  godfather  who  gives  him  that 
name.  I  hope  you  will  spare  yourself,  and  me, 
such  a  scene  in  church  ;  and  also  consider  what 
an  unpleasant  event  it  would  be  to  remember 
against  the  child." 

"  You  durst  not  do  such  a  thing." 


LIFE  AT  JJ  RAD  LEY  COURT.  125 

"  Do  not  trust  to  that  opinion,  Edith.  I 
solemnly  assure  you  that  I  will  contradict  the 
sponsor,  whoever  he  may  be,  that  calls  my  son 
Luke." 

"  If  he  is  not  to  be  called  Lukev  I  will  not 
have  him  christened  at  all." 

"  As  you  please.  There  are  scores  of  good 
English  names.  Why  need  you  select  the  only 
one  that  will  give  pain  and  offence  ?  " 

"  Luke  was  my  dear  dead  father's  name." 

"  By  calling  our  son  Luke  you  can  not  please 
his  dead  grandfather,  and  you  will  surely  trou 
ble  and  anger  his  living  grandfather.  Choose 
any  other  name  and  I  will  agree  to  it." 

"  He  shall  be  Luke,  christened  or  unchris- 
tened." 

"  He  shall  at  least  not  be  christened  Luke. 
That  I  can  and  will  prevent." 

Then  he  turned  to  his  books,  and  Edith  left 
the  room  with  a  determination  to  carry  her' 
point.  But  a  little  reflection  convinced  her 
that  Joe  in  this  case  was  not  to  be  trifled  with. 
She  had  seen  him  in  the  same  mood  several 
times,  and  she  had  never  known  him  to  recede 
a  letter  from  the  text  of  his  threat.  She  did 
not  wish  to  bring  their  private  quarrel  to  an 


126  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

issue  before  the  clergy  and  the  congregation, 
so  the  christening  of  the  child  was  indefinitely 
put  off. 

But  this  dispute  saddened  Joe  beyond  all 
former  ones.  It  was  evident  to  him  that  the 
mistake  made  in  his  life  had  the  power  to  pro 
ject  itself  throughout  it,  and  blight  all  his 
sweetest  and  most  personal  joys.  He  suddenly 
felt  an  invincible  distaste  for  his  study  and  his 
work.  He  saw  that  there  was  no  redeeming 
power  i.n  it. 

For  three  weeks  he  was  very  miserable — mis 
erable  because  he  felt  so  hopeless.  And  three 
weeks  looks  a  dreary  time  to  a  soul  without 
hope  or  purpose,  though  he  who  shapes  the 
destinies  of  men  for  eternity  makes  these  pain 
ful  pauses  in  life  no  longer,  doubtless,  than  is 
absolutely  necessary  to  enable  the  dead  hopes 
to  bury  their  dead,  and  animate  the  living  ones 
to  some  newer  and  better  purpose. 

At  any  rate,  at  the  end  of  three  weeks  a  re 
action  came.  He  was  sitting  in  his  laboratory, 
but  he  was  not  working.  He  had  not  kindled 
a  light  for  many  days.  He  was  telling  himself 
that  he  was  still  stumbling  on  a  wrong  road. 
"At  the  best  I  have  but  blundered  upon  a  few 


LIFE  AT  BRADLEY  COURT.  127 

facts  that  are  useless  without  their  connecting 
links ;  well,  then,  Joe  Braithwaite,  try  again ! 
You  must  go  back  to  your  father,  sir,  rather 
than  be  beat." 

When  he  had  reached  this  resolution  Edith 
entered.  She  had  an  open  letter  in  her  hand, 
and  she  looked  so  handsome  and  had  such  a 
grand  way  with  her  that  Joe  could  not  help 
noticing  and  admiring  her  beauty.  "  How  much 
I  could  have  loved  her,"  he  thought,  "  if  I  had 
been  the  owner  of  Bradley  Manor,  and  she  had 
had  nothing  but  her  love  and  her  beauty  to 
give  me." 

Her  first  words,  however,  had  in  them  that 
unfortunate  pleasantry  which  always  irritated 
Joe. 

"  I  am  come  as  a  client,  Mr.  Braithwaite,  if 
you  have  not  forgotten  your  law,  and  have  time 
to  attend  to  my  case." 

"  Don't  chaff  me,  Edith.  You  know  I  have 
plenty  of  time.  I  have  nothing  else  but  time. 
Sit  down.  I  shall  be  glad  if  I  can  do  you  any 
real  service." 

They  sat  down  together  with  a  dreary  polite 
ness.  Edith  thought  she  had  been  snubbed. 
Joe  had  an  equally  unpleasant  feeling.  Then 


128  MASTER    OF  HIS  FATE. 

Edith  touched  the  letter,  and  said,  "  It  is  from 
Sykes,  of  Manchester.  He  offers  to  buy  the 
house  I  own  there.  He  says  he  will  give  me 
;£io,ooo  for  it.  What  do  you  think  of  the 
offer?" 

"If  the  house  is  worth  £10,000  to  him,  it  is 
very  probably  worth  more  to  you.  Have  you 
asked  Perkins  ?  " 

"  Perkins  is  in  London.  Sykes  urges  an  im 
mediate  answer.  Will  you  go  to  Manchester 
and  see  about  it  ?  I  don't  like  trading  with 
Sykes  at  a  distance.  When  he  is  on  the  spot, 
he  has  us  at  an  unfair  disadvantage." 

"  Yes,  I  will  go,  if  you  wish  it." 

"You  will  get  all  the  papers  relating  to  the 
property  at  Perkins's  office  ;  and  if  you  want 
any  advice — " 

"  I  don't  want  any  advice.  I  know  my  busi 
ness  as  well  as  most  lawyers  do." 

"  Of  course.  Then  you  will  go  to-morrow 
morning  ?  " 

"  I  will  get  the  papers,  and  leave  for  Man 
chester  to-morrow  morning." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

JOE'S     FORTH  PUT. 

Fate  was  not  mine,  nor  am  I  Fate's : 
Souls  know  no  conquerors.         — DRYDEN. 

Money,  being  the  common  scale 
Of  things  by  measure,  weight,  and  tale, 
In  all  the  affairs  of  Church  and  State, 
Is  both  the  balance  and  the  weight. 

— HUDIBRAS. 

SO  Joe  rode  over  to  Market-Bevin  and  pro 
cured  the  papers  relating  to  the  Manches 
ter  property.  He  lingered  a  little  in  the  familiar 
streets  of  the  place,  and  looked  with  interest 
and  with  some  vague  regrets  at  the  old  Hall 
where  he  had  certainly  spent  more  than  twenty 
very  happy  years.  With  still  more  interest  he 
passed  the  mill  that  might  have  been  his  own. 
Its  massive  masonry  trembled  with  the  titanic 
labors  of  steam  and  machinery.  From  hun 
dreds  of  open  windows  came  the  hum — m  of 
the  wheels,  and  the  great  chimney  seemed  to 


13°  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

be  consciously  proud  of  its  height,  and  of  the 
volumes  of  smoke  it  cast  out  into  the  blue 
mid-air. 

The  ponderous  gates  were  shut.  No  visitors, 
no  idlers,  no  'curious  people,  were  wanted  in 
Bevin  Mill.  Business  only  procured  an  admis 
sion  there,  and  Joe  had  no  business  now  with 
its  master.  And  yet  he  longed  to  see  him. 
He  took  the  road  past  Bevin  Mill  twice,  though 
it  was  a  little  out  of  his  way  ;  but  the  tightly 
shut  gates  depressed  him  ;  they  seemed  to 
typify  the  inflexibility  of  his  father's  angry 
determination. 

And  as  he  rode  home  through  the  lonely 
lanes  a  purpose  that  had  often  drifted  through 
his  mind  assumed  a  positive  form.  He  began 
to  consider  it  as  practicable ;  he  decided  to 
follow  it  out.  But  the  decision  was  an  im 
portant  one,  and  its  very  consideration  impart 
ed  a  solemn  and  resolute  air  to  his  face  and 
manner. 

Suddenly,  as  he  turned  into  the  high  road,  he 
met  his  father.  Amos  was  in  his  gig.  He  was 
reconsidering  a  bargain  he  had  made,  and  was 
oblivious  to  such  an  unimportant  matter  as  his 
horse's  speed  ;  so  the  animal  was  placidly  jog- 


JOE'S  FORTH  PUT.  13 1 

ging  along  at  the  pace  most  comfortable  to  him 
self.  It  was  one  which  gave  Amos  no  excuse 
for  passing  his  son,  and  perhaps  he  did  not  wish 
to  pass  him,  for  when  Joe  said,  "Why,  father! 
How  are  you  ?  This  is  a  bit  of  luck  to  meet 
you!  "the  old  man's  face  brightened,  and  he 
answered,  "  I'm  well  enough,  Joe.  How  art 
thou  getting  along?" 

"  Very  well,  father." 

"  I  daresay.  And  how  is  my  daughter-in- 
law?  She  doesn't  think  much  o' me,  eh?  And 
I  hear  thou  hes  a  son  o'  thy  awn.  Mebbe  now 
thou  will  come  to  find  out  that  fathers  hev 
some  feelings.  Whativer  brought  thee  this 
road  ?  " 

"  I  was  at  Market-Bevin.  I  passed  the  mill 
twice  in  hopes  of  seeing  you." 

"  Nay,  then,  I  don't  stand  at  t'  gates  watch 
ing  folks  pass.  Was  ta  at  Perkins's?" 

"Yes.  I  went  to  his  office  for  some  papers 
about  a  bit  of  property  in  Manchester.  I  am 
going  there  to-morrow  to  sell  it,  if  the  price 
offered  be  a  fair  one." 

"  My  word,  Joe  !  I  wish  to  goodness  owd 
Luke  Bradley  knew  thou  wer  buying  and  selling 
t'  property  he  scraffled  and  scraped  for.  I  think 


I32  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

it  would  be  a  punishment  as  would  pay  for  a 
few  of  his  meannesses.  Well,  my  lad,  good 
night  to  thee  !  Say,  Joe,  what  is  ta  goin'  to 
call  thy  son?  I'll  bet  thee  a  shilling  Mrs.  Joe 
will  be  givin'  him  her  father's  name." 

"  I'd  let  him  go  without  a  name  at  all  before 
I'd  have  him  called  Luke." 

"  Thet's  right,  Joe  !  Thet's  as  it  should  be. 
I  was  a  bit  bothered  at  the  thought  of  a  Luke 
Bradley  Braithwaite.  It  doesn't  sound  right, 
does  it  ?  And  I  kept  thinking  to  mysen,  '  if 
Joe  tacks  a  rascal's  name  before  Braithwaite,  it 
will  be  a  shabby  thing  to  do.'  " 

"Joe  wouldn't  do  it,  father;  n^c  for  all  the 
money  Bradley  left.  If  I  had  my  way  I  would 
call  him  Amos.  He's  a  fine  little  fellow,  and 
he  wouldn't  be  any  thing  but  an  honor  to  the 
best  name  going." 

"  Would  ta  really  call  him  Amos  ?  Well  now, 
Amos  is  a  varry  good  name.  I  niver  heard  tell 
of  any  blackguard  called  Amos,  and  happen  it 
might  be  a  good  thing  for  t'  little  chap,  happen 
it  might.  I  must  hurry  a  bit  now,  Joe.  Good 
night  to  thee." 

"  Shake  hands,  father,  do  !  " 

"  Why-a!     I  hev  no  objections.     I'm  none  o' 


JOE'S  FORTHPUT.  133 

them  unreasonable  fathers  that  can't  see  good 
as  well  as  bad  in  a  son.  Thou  vexed  me  in 
one  thing,  and  thou  hes  pleased  me  middlin' 
well  in  another.  I  sail  strike  a  just  balance 
between  thee  and  me,  Joe." 

Then  he  leaned  forward  and  grasped  Joe's 
hand,  and  if  the  young  fellow  had  only  thought 
to  bend  down  his  handsome  head,  doubtless 
Amos  would  have  done  involuntarily  as  the 
tender  Judean  father — embraced  and  kissed 
him.  But  neither  of  the  men  were  naturally 
demonstrative,  and  both  were  slightly  embar 
rassed  even  by  the  advance  made.  So  they 
parted  quickly,  and  with  less  warmth  of  manner 
than  might  have  been  expected  ;  but  the 
warmth  was  at  their  hearts,  and  Amos  found 
himself  humming  the  only  song  he  knew  when 
he  stopped  at  the  mill  gates. 

The  next  morning  Joe  left  for  Manchester. 
Edith  had  really  intended  to  make  the  trip  a 
pleasure  to  her  husband,  and  send  him  off 
under  cheerful  auspices.  But  women  with 
nursing  babies  cannot  be  sure  of  their  moods 
early  in  the  morning.  The  child  had  been 
restless  all  night.  She  could  not  trust  the 
nurse,  and  she  lost  her  own  sleep.  In  conse- 


134  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

quence,  she  had  a  headache  and  was  fretful  and 
nervous  and  quite  unable  to  command  the 
smiles  and  pleasant  words  she  had  intended  to 
give. 

But  Joe  was  hardly  conscious  of  her  silence 
and  her  irresponsive  way.  Perhaps  he  ought 
to  have  been  ;  ought  to  have  understood  her 
languor,  and  the  evident  marks  of  suffering  on 
her  face.  A  word  of  sympathy  might  have 
brought  sunshine  and  exchange  of  courtesies 
and  confidences.  But  Joe  had  many  things  on 
his  mind,  and  Edith's  lassitude  and  reticence  in 
the  morning  were  familiar  conditions  to 
him. 

"  Good-bye,  dear  Edith."  He  took  her 
hands  and  kissed  her  with  a  tenderness  which 
touched  the  weary  woman.  At  the  last  moment 
she  made  an  effort  to  be  sweet  and  loving,  but 
a  leaden  weight  was  on  every  emotion  ;  and 
she  took  his  farewell  with  a  passive  apathy 
which  very  little  expressed  her  real  affection. 
For  she  was  in  the  power  of  a  contradictious 
listlessness,  the  result  of  a  physical  condition 
she  was  hardly  to  be  blamed  for.  And  oh ! 
how  many  a  household  quarrel,  miserable  in  its 
results,  arises  from  causes  as  really  unoffending 


JOE'S  FORTHPUT.  135 

in  intent  and  as  little  within  the  control  of 
women  who  are  physically  exhausted. 

At  the  door  Joe  suddenly  turned  and  asked 
for  his  son.  Under  a  hurried  protest  the 
child  was  brought  sleeping.  He  kissed  and 
laid  him  in  his  mother's  arms,  and  Edith  saw 
there  were  tears  in  his  father's  eyes  as  he  turned 
away.  She  was  dimly  troubled  by  the  circum 
stance.  Joe  was  only  going  on  a  short  journey  ; 
he  would  return  in  a  few  days.  She  had  not 
understood  before  that  he  cared  so  much  for 
the  child. 

For  the  first  hour  or  two,  Joe  enjoyed  the 
simple  sense  of  perfect  freedom.  He  was 
alone.  He  was  not  afraid  of  offending,  either 
by  omitting  to  do  something  he  should  have 
done,  or  by  doing  something  which  he  ought 
not  to  have  done.  The  air  was  fresh  and 
exhilarating,  the  sense  of  motion  and  of  change 
delightful.  He  enjoyed  these  things  with  the 
healthy  physical  enjoyment  natural  to  a  young 
and  perfectly  healthy  man.  But,  ere  long,  he 
withdrew  himself  from  mere  outside  influences  ; 
his  eyes  became  thoughtful,  his  mouth  settled 
into  firm,  definite  curves,  there  was  an  air  of 


I36  MASTER    OF  flIS  FATE, 

purpose  and  resolution,  in  every  movement  he 
made. 

Arriving  at  Manchester,  he  first  of  all  devoted 
his  attention  to  his  wife's  interests.  After  their 
satisfactory  settlement  Joe  had  business  of  his 
own  to  attend  to.  It  took  him  to  Spinning- 
Jenny  street,  a  locality  full  of  warehouses.  In 
a  few  minutes  he  stood  opposite  the  largest 
one.  It  bore  the  sign  of  Samuel  Yorke  and  Sons. 
There  was  a  link  between  himself  and  that 
warehouse  ;  one,  as  yet,  uncertain  and  untried, 
but  he  intended  to  test  its  strength. 

Samuel  Yorke  was  his  godfather.  The  rela 
tionship  had  indeed  been  merely  a  nominal 
one,  filled  by  proxy,  and  acknowledged  only  by 
handsome  presents  of  baby  plate  and  jewelry  ; 
but  it  was  connected  with  memories  stretching 
much  further  back.  For  Amos  Braithwaite 
and  Samuel  Yorke  had  been  close  companions 
in  those  days  when  both  boys  sold  papers  in 
Bradford  Market  ;  and  Joe  knew  that  in  every 
great  event  touching  either  of  their  lives,  letters 
of  sympathy  passed  between  Bevin  Hall  and 
Manchester. 

He  had  never  seen  his  godfather,  and  he 
knew  nothing  of  his  character  ;  but  he  looked 


JOE'S  FORTHPUT.  13? 

at  the  sign  above  the  door,  and  felt  his  fears 
fade  and  his  hopes  rise.  For  its  very  reten 
tion  there  argued  a  true  and  tender  heart,  since 
the  firm  was  no  longer  "  Samuel  Yorke  and 
Sons."  Eight  years  previous,  about  the  time 
Joe  and  his  father  separated,  Samuel  Yorke's 
two  sons  were  killed  with  their  mother,  in  a 
railway  accident.  Eight  years !  and  yet  the 
father  had  not  brought  himself  to  remove  the 
sign  put  up  with  such  happy  anticipations  just 
before  their  untimely  end.  At  that  time  Amos 
had  written  to  his  friend,  and  told  him  to 
be  thankful  that  he  hadn't  a  living  sorrow 
instead  of  a  dead  one.  "  Thy  two  sons,"  he 
said,  "  followed  thee  in  all  things,  and  were 
proud  to  put  their  names  with  thine,  but  I 
have  a  lad,  disobedient  and  wilful,  who  has 
disappointed  every  hope  I  have  had  for  twenty 
years." 

After  looking  at  the  sign  a  few  moments, 
Joe  pushed  aside  the  door  and  found  himself 
in  a  long  room  full  of  tables  piled  high  with 
printed  calicoes.  It  was  a  dusty,  dusky  place 
with  an  oily  smell  ;  and,  in  spite  of  the  number 
of  clerks  and  salesmen,  exceedingly  quiet.  He 
asked  for  Mr.  Yorke,  and  was  directed  to  an 


I38  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

inner  room  whose  door  he  opened.  When  he 
did  so,  Yorke  stood  facing  him. 

He  was  a  small,  thin  man  in  shabby  clothing, 
with  an  old  hat  pushed  backward  from  his 
forehead.  But  there  was  an  unmistakable  look 
of  master  and  millionaire  about  him.  He  was 
standing  at  a  table  on  which  lay  freshly-opened 
letters,  most  of  them  containing  samples  of 
cotton  ;  and  as  he  pulled  the  snowy  fibre 
slowly  through  his  fingers  he  was  softly  singing 
a  Methodist  hymn.  He  looked  up  with  a  bit 
of  long  staple  in  his  hand,  when  Joe  entered, 
and  stopped  at  the  end  of  the  line : 

There  is  a  land  of  pure  delight, 

and  looked  curiously  at  Joe.  He  knew  him 
ere  Joe  had  time  to  introduce  himself,  and  said  : 
"  Why  !  Thou  must  be  Amos  Braithwaite's 
son.  Downsitting  and  uprising,  thou  are  thy 
father's  varry  likeness." 

"Yes,  sir;  I  am  Joe  Braithwaite." 
"  For  sure,  and  my  godson.  I'm  glad  to  see 
thee;  sit  tha  down.  Whativer  lias  brought  thee 
to  Spinning-Jenny  street  ?  There's  no  wool 
here  for  you  West  Riding  men  ;  it  is  a'  this 
stuff,  lad,"  and  he  gathered  the  samples  of 
cotton,  with  a  swift  movement,  together,  look- 


JOE'S  FORTHPUT.  139 

ing  almost  lovingly  at  the  "  stuff  "  as  he  did  so. 

"  Well,  godfather,  I  didn't  come  to  buy  either 
cotton  or  wool.  I  came  to  sell  a  bit  of  prop 
erty  that  belonged  to  my  wife." 

"To  be  sure  !  Thou  married  Luke  Bradley's 
daughter.  I  heard  a'  about  it ;  a  rich  lass.  I 
knew  Bradley  varry  well,  too  well,  happen  ;  he 
was  a  hard  man.  He  had  property  all  over. 
Whativer  did  he  awn  in  Manchester  ?  " 

"The  house  next  the  Queen's  Hotel.  Sykes 
was  the  agent  for  it.  You  know  Sykes  ?  " 

"  I  sud  think  I  do." 

"  He  wrote  and  offered  us  .£10,000  for  it." 

"  Too  little,  far  too  little." 

"  Yes  ;  I  sold  it  to  the  proprietor  of  the  hotel 
for  £22,000." 

"  That's  far  more  like  t'  proper  figure.  But 
Sykes  willallus  feel  as  if  thou  had  cheated  him 
out  of  £12,000.  He's  that  kind,  is  Sykes.  Well 
Joe,  thou  must  stay  wi'  me  to-night.  I  want 
to  hev  a  long  talk  wi'  thee." 

"  Eh,  but  I  want  to  stay  with  you  much 
longer  than  to-night  ?  " 

"  Well,  tha's  welcome  in  reason,  ta  knows. 
But  whativer  is  ta  going  to  stay  F  Manchester 
for?" 


140  MASTER    OF  HIS  FATE. 

"  I  want  to  apprentice  myself  to  you.  I  want 
to  learn  your  business  from  A  to  Z." 

"  Thou  tak's  my  breath.  I  thought  thou  wer' 
a  lawyer,  learned  and  licensed  ?  " 

"  I  am  a  very  poor  lawyer,  and  I  never  shall 
be  any  better  one.  I  took  to  the  law  out  of 
pure  contradiction,  and  I  never  made  £100 
by  it.  I  want  to  be  a  cotton  spinner." 

"  Why  not  go  to  thy  father  and  learn  to  be  a 
wool  spinner?  One  kind  is  as  good  as  t'other. 
And  thou  would  be  near  Bradley  and  thy 
wife  and  child.  What  does  it  a'  mean, 
Joe  ?  " 

"  I  will  tell  you  if  you  care  to  hear." 

"To  be  sure  I  do  ;  only,  I'll  hev  no  half  con 
fidences.  Tell  me  iverything  or  tell  me  noth 
ing,  t'  bad  as  well  as  t'  good." 

Joe  was  only  too  thankful  to  have  some  sen 
sible  kind  man  to  open  his  heart  to.  He  did 
not  spare  himself  in  any  respect.  Yorke 
listened  patiently,  watching  the  young  man's 
mobile,  expressive  face  with  a  good  deal  of  in 
terest,  but  never  interrupting  his  confession. 
WThen  Joe  had  finished,  he  said,  "Thou  hes 
gone  wrong  iver  since  thou  left  thy  father. 
That  was  thy  first  wrong  step." 


JOE'S  FORTHPUT.  141 

"  It  was  not  all  my  fault.  Father  is  so 
masterful." 

"Well,  then,  he  is  master.  And  it  was  thy 
fault.  '  Honor  thy  father.'  That  is  t'  com 
mandment,  as  I  read  it.  Men's  laws  have  so 
many  provisions  and  amendments  and  what 
nots  that  they  need  a  lawyer  to  mak'  head  or 
tail  of  them.  God's  laws  are,  do  this  and  don't 
do  that.  A  man,  though  a  fool,  can  understand 
them.  "  It  is  '  honor  thy  father.'  That  is 
plain  enough." 

"  But  if  a  father  is  wrong,  or —  " 

"It  is  'honor  thy  father';  good,  bad,  or 
indifferent.  There  are  no  ifs  in  that  com 
mand." 

"A  father  may  be  tyrannical,  unreasonable, 
unkind,  unjust — 

"  For  sure,  I  reckon  t'  Almighty  knew  there 
would  be  them  kind  o'  fathers  ;  and  he  didn't 
make  any  exceptions.  But  I  say  that  thy  father 
is  none  o'  them.  Go  to  him,  and  ask  him  to 
tak'  thee  'prentice." 

"  It  would  be  no  use.  He  told  me  I  should 
never  have  part  nor  lot  in  Bevin  Mill,  and 
when  father  says  a  thing  in  the  way  he  did 
then—" 


I42  MASTJSS   DF  HIS  FATE. 

"  1  knoiv  ;  he'll  be  as  stubborn  as  if  stub. 
bornncss  were  his  religion." 

"  As  to  my  wife — 

"  As  to  thy  wife,  I  don't  blame  her.  Women 
talk  a  deal  about  love,  and  lots  of  feelings  with 
varry  fine  names,  but  I  tak'  notice  that  they 
think  the  most  of  t'  man  that  can  mak'  money. 
It  is  varry  well  for  a  rich  man  to  marry  a  poor 
girl,  and  give  her  iverything  he  hes  ;  that's 
natural,  and  she  tak's  iraturally  to  it ;  but  when 
a  rich  woman  marries  a  poor  man,  that's  a  varry 
different  thing.  And,  putting  this  and  that  to- 
gether,  Mrs.  Braithwaite  hasn't  done  so  badly,  I 
think.  As  soon  as  ta  gets  to  making  money 
she'll  be  a  model  wife,  I  sud  think." 

"  I  do  not  like  to  associate  my  wife  with  such 
opinions.  Why  should  she  think  more  of  me 
if  I  were  making  money? 

"  Because  money  is  only  t'  visible  result  of  a 
great  many  qualities  women  like  men  to  hev, 
pluck,  patience,  good  sense,  good  manners,  in 
dustry,  and  what  not.  I'll  tell  thee  what,  Joe, 
when  ta  sees  a  man  that  is  a  first-rate  money 
maker,  ta  sees  a  man  that  is  capable  o'  doing 
lots  of  other  things,  better  than  most  men  can. 
I  wouldn't  be  proud  of  heving  made  money  if 


JOE'S  FORTHPUT.  143 

I  didn't  think  so.  And  when  a  woman  sets  her 
heart  on  a  man  that  can  mak'  money  she's 
more  likely  to  be  right  than  wrong." 

"  Very  likely  ;  we  won't  mind  that  now.  Can 
I  stay  with  you,  and  learn  how  to  make  money?" 

"  Listen  now.  If  I  tak  thee  thou  wilt  hev  to 
do  my  way,  and  not  thy  awn.  I'll  hev  no  fine 
gentleman  'prentice.  If  ta  wants  to  mak'  thy 
living  \vi'  clean  hands,  don't  thee  come  to  me. 
I  am  at  business  ivery  morning  at  eight,  and  I 
stay  till  five." 

"  Your  hours  shall  be  mine,  I  promise." 

11  Thou  must  learn  a'  about  spinning  and 
weaving ;  a'  about  dyes  and  dyeing  ;  and  thou 
must  tak'  thy  share  o'  t'  work  in  t'  printing 
room.  It  is  a  hard  business.  Thou  wilt  be 
dirty,  and  hot,  and  tired  most  of  thy  time,  and 
I'll  not  engage  to  tak'  thee  for  less  than  two 
years.  Even  if  ta  hes  ivery  advantage  it  will  be 
that  long  anyway." 

"  I  will  agree  to  all  you  desire." 

"  And  thou  will  hev  to  live  with  me." 

"With  you?" 

"  For  sure.  If  I  tak'  charge  o'  thee,  I'll  hev 
thee  under  my  awn  roof,  and  my  awn  eyes." 

This  was  more  than  Joe  had   contemplated. 


144  MASTER    OF  HIS  FATE. 

Among  the  compensations  he  had  promised 
himself  was  the  lonely  freedom  of  evenings 
devoted  to  his  own  will  and  way.  Yorke  saw 
the  momentary  hesitation,  and  explained : 
"  That  will  suit  thee,  Joe,  and  thou  wilt  soon 
find  out  how  well,  for  if  thou  art  as  tired  as 
thou  ought  to  be,  thou  will  want  no  ither  thing 
but  thy  bed.  And  if  I  ask  thee  to  go  to  t' 
chapel  with  me  on  a  Sunday,  I  think  in  a  little 
while  thou  will  like  to  go  well  enough.  My 
own  dear  lads  thought  it  no  hardship  ;  "  and  he 
looked  at  Joe  with  such  a  depth  of  yearning, 
sorrowful  remembrance  in  his  eyes,  that  Joe's 
heart  was  sincerely  touched. 

"  It  was  a  great  sorrow,  wife  and  sons  in  one 
hour,"  he  said  softly.  "  I  wonder  it  did  not 
break  your  heart." 

"  Nay,  nay  !  Hearts  tak'  a  deal  o'  breaking 
thet  hev  their  trust  in  God  Almighty.  Now, 
then,  tell  me  where  ta  bides,  and  go  write  thy 
letters  and  pack  thy  valise  !  " 

"  I  am  at  the  Queen's  Hotel." 

"  Get  thee  ready,  then.  I'll  call  for  thee  soon 
after  five  o'clock.  And  I'm  sure  thou  wilt  do 
more  than  well.  I  can  see  thou  hes  plenty  o' 
forthput  in  thee." 


CHAPTER  X. 
EDITH'S  HARD   BLOW. 

Not  even  the  tenderest  heart,  and  next  our  own, 
Knows  half  the  reason  why  we  smile  and  sigh. 

Those  who  inflict  must  suffer,  for  they  see 
The  work  of  their  own  hearts,  and  that  must  be 
Their  chastisement. 

IN  the  meantime,  Edith  was  neither  anxious 
nor  unhappy.  She  had  not  one  of  those 
sensitive,  looking-forward  souls  which  feel  the 
shadow  of  coming  events.  Presentiments  did 
not  visit  her  ;  if  they  had,  she  would  probably 
have  referred  them  to  some  physical  cause. 
Joe's  sober,  almost  solemn  farewell  and  the 
mist  of  tears  in  his  eyes,  she  understood  just 
as  little.  She  was  both  annoyed  and  pleased 
by  the  circumstance;  annoyed,  because  she 
had  the  common  English  hatred  of  any  thing 
like  a  scene,  especially  before  servants,  and 
going  to  Manchester  was  not  a  thing  to  be 


146  MASTER    OF  HIS  FATE. 

made  an  event  of.  It  was  not  the  air  of  good 
society.  At  the  same  time  she  was  flattered 
by  her  husband's  evident  emotion  at  their 
parting. 

"He  must  be  very  tond  of  baby  and  me," 
and  the  thought  made  her  quiet  and  silent  for 
a  little  while,  and  she  hoped  Joe  would  have 
a  pleasant  time  and  manage  the  business  he 
had  gone  about  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  any 
interference  of  Perkins  in  it  unnecessary. 

Then  she  turned  with  a  busy  interest  to  the 
affairs  of  her  household.  She  had  determined 
to  make  some  changes,  and  she  thought  Joe's 
absence  a  suitable  opportunity.  In  ordering  a 
staff  of  tradesmen  and  servants  she  was  in  her 
element  ;  it  was  wonderful  how  much  she  got 
out  of  every  one.  And  thus  employed  the 
days  passed  rapidly  away  ;  she  had  no  time  to 
speculate  and  no  time  to  be  lonely. 

Joe's  first  letter  was  just  what  she  expected 
it  to  be.  It  related  only  to  his  journey  and  to 
his  first  impressions  of  the  cotton  metropolis 
of  the  world.  His  second  referred  to  the  busi 
ness  he  had  been  sent  to  transact.  It  was 
short  and  sensible,  and  gave  her  a  feeling  of 
respect  for  her  emissary  in  the  matter.  The 


EDITH'S  HARD  BLOW.  14? 

third  letter,  informing  her  of  the  sale  of  the 
house  for  more  than  double  the  offered  price, 
was  a  genuine  surprise.  It  came  while  she  was 
eating  dinner  and  gave  her  pleasant  food  for 
reflection  all  the  evening. 

Perhaps  after  all  she  had  done  Joe  an  injus 
tice.  Now  that  she  saw  a  prospect  of  manag 
ing  without  Perkins,  she  could  afford  to  recall 
a  number  of  little  things  in  which  she  was  sure 
he  had  overreached  his  proper  charges.  The 
total  of  his  last  bill  had  been  unusually  large. 
"  He  is  meddlesome,  too,  and  very  dictatorial. 
I'll  pay  him  off,  and  Joe  and  I  will  manage 
Bradley.  It  may  be  a  happy  thing  to  do;-  at 
any  rate  we  can  try,  etc.,  etc." 

Thus  she  mused,  for  there  was  a  real  senti 
ment  of  regret  in  her  heart,  and  something 
more  than  suspicion  that  after  all  she  had  not 
given  Joe  a  fair  chance.  By  word  and  deed 
she  had  snubbed  him.  Practically  she  had  let 
Perkins  snub  him  also.  She  was  not  well 
pleased  at  herself,  and  she  was  quite  angry  at 
Perkins.  Poor  Joe  !  She  intended  to  order 
events  rather  differently  for  him  in  the  future 
and  she  meant  also  to  tell  him  that  she  had 
been  unjust  to  him  and  that  she  was  sorry  for 


I4§  MASTER   OF  HIS   FATE. 

it.  For  though  a  proud,  self-sufficient  woman, 
she  was,  as  such  characters  often  are,  essen 
tially  just. 

She  was  indeed  quite  eager  to  begin  her 
reparation.  She  expected  Joe  home  the  next 
evening,  and  unusual  preparations  were  made 
to  honor  his  return.  The  house  had  been 
renovated,  and  had  that  festival  air  which  new 
draperies  and  decorations  give.  She  ordered 
an  elaborate  dinner,  and  dressed  herself  and 
baby  with  tasteful  splendor.  For  was  not  Joe 
coming  home  in  a  kind  of  triumph?  He  had 
more  than  bettered  expectation.  She  wished 
him  to  feel  that  he  had  done  well,  and  that  she 
was  appreciative  and  grateful. 

As  she  stood  before  the  glass  tying  her 
bonnet-strings,  she  smiled  over  her  excitement, 
and  the  fresh  color  it  had  brought  to  her  cheeks 
and  the  brilliant  light  to  her  eyes.  She  looked 
critically  at  her  dress  and  laces,  and  changed 
her  ribbons  for  a  set  whose  tint  Joe  always 
admired.  There  was  no  mean  withdrawing,  no 
keeping  back  part,  no  selfish  reservation,  in 
Edith's  submission.  The  reparation  she  in 
tended  to  make  her  husband  was  to  be  as  per 
fect  as  possible.  The  opportunity  she  intended 


EDITH'S  HARD  BLOW.  149 

give  him  was  to  be  untrammelled  by  doubt  of 
interference. 

She  went  to  meet  the  Manchester  train  with 
a  heart  full  of  kind  and  just  thoughts.  She 
had  no  doubt  of  Joe's  arrival,  and  when  she 
did  not  see  him  among  the  alighting  passengers 
she  was  so  much  astonished  at  her  disappoint 
ment  that  she  could  not  for  a  few  minutes 
believe  in  it.  She  went  home  depressed,  and 
an  unhappy  feeling  she  could  not  banish 
dashed  the  enthusiasm  of  all  her  good  intent. 

There  was  a  later  train,  and  she  sent  the 
carriage  to  meet  it,  but  this  time  she  remained 
at  home.  It  was  baby's  hour,  and  besides  the 
first  glow  of  her  feelings  had  been  chilled.  Joe 
had  failed  her.  She  told  herself  that  whenever 
she  had  made  some  extraordinary  effort  to 
brighten  and  sweeten  things  between  them 
Joe  had  always  failed  her.  She  had  fretted  her 
heart  into  a  no-use-trying  temper  before  the 
time  for  the  second  train,  and  she  made  no 
attempt  to  renew  the  pleasant  anticipations 
which  had  been  so  promptly  disappointed. 

Of  course  the  carriage  returned  without  Joe. 
The  coachman  said  he  could  not  have  been 
mistaken.  Only  two  gentlemen  had  left  the 


15°  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

train,  Sir  Thomas  Wilson  and  Mr.  Selby.  But 
there  was  a  letter.  The  postmistress  had  given 
it  to  him  as  he  passed. 

She  took  it  indifferently,  and  opened  it 
almost  with  a  feeling  of  anger  at  Joe's  unneces 
sary  delay.  The  contents  stunned  her.  She 
turned  sick,  and  her  heart  beat  as  if  every  throb 
was  its  last  effort.  But  there  were  servants 
present,  and  she  would  not  betray  herself  before 
them.  By  a  supreme  effort  she  managed  to  go 
through  the  usual  form  of  dinner. 

Then  she  went  to  her  bedroom  and  locked 
the  door,  and  sitting  down  spread  the  letter  ou' 
before  her.  Word  by  word,  following  tht 
words  with  her  jewelled  forefinger,  she  read  it 
through : 

"  MY  DEAR  WIFE — I  hope  you  are  satisfied 
with  the  settlement  of  the  Manchester  property. 
I  received  the  money  to-day,  and  forward  a 
cheque  for  the  amount  stated  in  my  last,  de 
ducting  only  the  regular  charge  on  the  convey 
ancing,  etc.  This  money  I  have  retained, 
because  I  shall  not  be  at  home  again  for  two 
years.  To-morrow  morning  I  begin  my  appren 
ticeship  to  Samuel  Yorke,  cotton  spinner  and 
calico  printer.  I  intend  to  learn  the  business, 
in  all  its  processes,  practically.  I  have  lived  too 
long  upon  your  bounty,  for  I  have  lost  your 
esteem  as  well  as  my  own  ;  and  I  deserve  the 


EDITH'S  HARD  BLOW.  151 

loss.  Please  God  I  will  redeem  the  past,  and 
with  His  help  make  a  man  of  myself.  When  I 
am  worthy  of  your  love,  worthy  to  be  your 
husband,  you  will  respect  me  ;  and  until  then, 
think  as  kindly  of  me  as  you  can.  Even  for 
baby's  sake  I  must  try  and  deserve  something 
more  than  forbearance,  and  it  is  better  he 
should  not  know  me  at  all,  until  I  can  right 
fully  claim  it.  Dear  wife,  if  you  will  write 
often  to  me,  it  will  strengthen  me  for  my  effort, 
and  give  me  all  the  hope  I  need  for  the  future." 

Joe  had  not  been  at  all  satisfied  with  this 
letter,  but  every  effort  at  an  explanation  of  his 
motives  and  purpose  seemed  hopeless;  for 
he  had  been  led  to  the  step  he  had  taken  by 
a  complication  of  causes  past  and  present.  So 
he  finally  concluded  that  Edith  would  be  likely 
to  remember  all,  without  his  indexing  events 
and  influences,  and  that  the  shortest  letter 
would  be  the  best  one.  If  there  were  any  thing 
to  be  said  in  his  favor  her  own  heart  must 
discover  it  in  order  to  permanently  influence 
her. 

But  every  letter  has  its  peculiar  atmosphere. 
It  is  often  quite  independent  of  the  words,  and 
much  stronger  in  its  influence  than  they  are. 
Plain  and  undemonstrative  as  Joe's  letter  was, 
Edith  felt  that  he  had  put  his  best  and  tender- 
est  self  into  its  few  lines,  and  she  had  to  sum- 


15 2  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

mon  all  the  strength  of  her  soul  to  the  task  of 
reading  them. 

She  was  white  as  the  paper  on  which  they 
were  written,  and  she  sat  for  a  long  time  as 
still  as  if  she  had  been  turned  into  stone. 
What  would  her  neighbors  say?  And  all  her 
social  equals  and  friends  ?  She  would  get  the 
blame  ;  women  always  did.  How  cruel  it  was 
of  Joe  to  place  her  in  such  a  position ! 

These  were  her  first  thoughts,  but  more  un 
selfish  ones  soon  followed.  The  very  brevity 
and  humility  of  Joe's  letter  was  a  mighty  elo 
quence  to  her.  Fine  sentences  or  reproaches 
would  probably  have  failed  to  touch  her ;  they 
would  at  least  have  roused  her  to  defend  her 
self.  Joe  had  not  blamed  her  ;  but  her  con 
science  did.  Every  hour  it  said  harder  things 
to  her.  Joe  had  unconsciously  struck  the 
noblest  chord  in  her  nature.  And  in  taking 
his  destiny  so  calmly  and  resolutely  out  of  her 
power  he  had  suddenly  become  her  master. 
Her  old  admiration  for  his  beauty,  his  sunny 
temper,  and  kind  heart,  returned  with  tenfold 
power.  She  had  never  been  as  much  in  love 
with  Joe  Braithwaite  as  she  was  in  that  hour, 


EDITH'S  HARD  BLOW.  153 

when  she  knew  that  he  had  left  her  to  regain 
the  prerogatives  of  his  manhood. 

But  when  the  first  shock  passed  away  she 
began  to  reason  clearly.  She  must  have  advice. 
She  must  have  the  moral  strength  of  compan 
ionship,  and  she  must  have  some  one  to  rely 
upon  and  to  go  to  in  emergencies.  She  never 
had  a  hope  that  Joe  would  now  recede  from 
the  position  he  had  taken.  Even  if  she  hum 
bled  herself  before  him,  and  gave  every  thing 
into  his  hands,  it  would  not  bring  him  back  to 
her  side.  She  felt  positive  that  he  would  stay 
until  the  last  hour  to  which  he  had  pledged 
himself  was  outrun. 

Perkins  was  her  first  thought.  He  would 
now  have  to  retain  the  management  of  Bradley, 
but  between  Joe  and  herself  he  should  not  put 
a  single  word.  She  would  not  name  her  hus 
band  to  him,  or  suffer  him  to  discuss  what  Joe 
had  done  in  any  way.  Who  then  must  she  go 
to?  Sir  Thomas  Wilson  had  always  liked  Joe, 
honestly  liked  him  ;  and  he  was  in  a  position 
to  give  her  the  protection  and  the  advice  she 
needed.  But  he  did  not  like  her.  She  knew 
it  in  spite  of  his  smiles  and  suavity.  Neither 
did  Lady  Wilson  Kke  her,  nor  Lady  Charlton, 


154  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

nor  indeed,  when  she  began  to  go  over  the  list 
of  her  acquaintances,  could  she  find  one  on 
whom  she  could  rely. 

She  did  not  sleep  all  night,  but  toward 
morning  she  arrived  at  a  definite  plan  for  her 
conduct.  It  had  come  to  her  in  one  of  those 
flashes  of  intelligence  which  visit  souls  earnestly 
seeking  their  way  out  of  darkness  and  difficulty ; 
come  with  its  own  assurance  so  perfect  that  she 
never  thought  of  challenging  it. 

She  would  go  to  Joe's  father! 

So,  early  the  next  day,  Amos  Braithwaite 
was  amazed  to  see  a  handsome  carriage  drive 
inside  his  mill  gates,  and  a  beautiful,  richly- 
dressed  woman  alight  from  it.  He  had  never 
seen  his  daughter-in-law,  bu:  he  knew  instinc 
tively  that  it  was  she. 

And,  as  suspicion  was  ever  the  first  feeling 
in  the  old  man's  heart,  he  muttered,  "  That's 
Joe's  wife,  I'll  be  bound.  Now,  whativer  is 
she  up  to — comin'  here  this  time  of  t'  day?" 

Then  he  retired  at  once  to  his  private  office. 
He  was  on  the  alert  in  all  his  senses.  "  He 
wasn't  goin'  to  be  bamboozled  by  any  woman. 
And  he  wasn't  goin',  either,  to  let  Luke  Brad- 
ley's  lass  say  a  word  against  his  Joe.  If  there 


EDITH'S  HARD  BLOW.  155 

was  sides  to  be  taken  he  would  stick  up  for  his 
awn  side — ivery  time  !  "  And  while  he  was  thus 
thinking  the  door  opened  and  Edith  entered. 

Her  stately  beauty,  her  rich  clothing,  the 
faint  waft  of  some  delicate  perfume  that  came 
in  with  her,  quite  subdued  Amos.  She  looked 
at  him  with  eyes  full  of  tears,  and  said,  softly, 
«  Father!" 

"  Eh  ?  Well,  certainly,  ma'am.  Thou  art 
Joe's  wife  happen  ?  Sit  tha  down." 

She  sat  down  in  the  big  leather  chair  that 
was  the  particular  property  of  Amos,  and, 
covering  her  face  with  her  hands,  she  began  to 
sob  ;  for  her  courage  had  suddenly  forsaken 
her,  and  she  dreaded  this  old  man  who  looked 
at  her  so  coldly  and  so  curiously. 

"Whativer  is  t'  matter  wi'  thee,  Mrs.  Braith- 
waite?  " 

"  Oh  !  father  !  father  !     Oh,  Joe— Joe— Joe  !  " 

"  Joe  hes  been  up  to  summat  wrong,  and 
he's  sent  his  wife  to  get  round  me."  That  was 
the  first  thought  Amos  had.  His  next  one  was, 
"  She'll  be  sharp  as  needles  if  she  manages  it." 
But  he  made  some  attempt  to  comfort  her; 
and  the  more  he  tried  the  more  Edith  wept, 
and  the  sorrier  Amos  felt  for  her. 


I56  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

"  Whativer  is  t'  matter  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Come 
now,  tell  me  all  about  it  If  Joe  hes  been  un 
kind  to  thee,  I'll  pay  him  off  mysen  for  it ;  see 
if  I  don't." 

"Joe  unkind!  Oh,  no,  father!  It  is  I  that 
have  been  unkind." 

"  Oh,  ta  hes,  hes  ta  ?  I  wouldn't  hev  believed 
it  of  such  a  bonny  woman.  Whativer  hes  ta 
been  up  to  ?  I'll  be  bound  he  is  as  much  in  t' 
wrong  as  thou  art." 

"  No,  he  is  not.  Joe  has  behaved  like  an  angel. 
Joe  is  the  noblest  fellow  that  God  ever  made." 

"  Mebbe  so,  for  God  hes  made  a  queer  lot 
even  in  my  time.  Joe  might  be  t'  best  of  them, 
and  then  be  nothing  to  crack  about ;  for  Joe  is 
a  long  way  off  t'  angels.  But  come  now,  you 
hev  hed  a  quarrel — most  married  people  do 
hev  quarrels — what  is  it  about  ?  " 

Then  Edith  told  Amos  all  their  domestic 
troubles.  She  had  thought  over  things  in  the 
night,  and  had  come  to  a  very  clear  under 
standing  of  them.  And  she  did  not  spare  her 
self.  She  confessed  to  all  her  authoritative 
ways,  her  little  meannesses,  and  especially  her 
aggravating  determination  not  to  have  the  baby 
christened  unless  it  was  called  Luke. 


EDITH'S  HARD   BLOW.  157 

Amos  had  hard  work  to  keep  a  straight  face 
during  this  acknowledgment  of  Edith's  faults. 
Over  and  over,  he  wanted  to  have  a  good 
hearty  laugh.  It  amused,  it  delighted  him,  to 
think  of  Joe,  who  would  not  submit  to  his  own 
father,  having  to  bow  and  beck  to  his  wife. 
Amos  had  been  an  autocrat  in  his  household. 
That  a  man  should  be  any  thing  else  to  his 
own  women-folk  seemed  a  most  preposterous 
state  of  affairs  to  him. 

Edith's  revelations  affected  him  as  a  comedy 
might  have  done.  And  all  the  time  he  was 
complacently  reflecting  that  this  most  unnat 
ural  condition  of  affairs  was  doubtless  a  judg 
ment  on  Joe  for  his  disobedience  to  him — a 
very  fitting  retribution  indeed  it  seemed  to  the 
disappointed  and  unvalued  father. 

But  when  Edith  told  him  that  Joe  had  gone, 
that  was  a  different  thing.  The  quarrel  was 
more  than  a  joke,  more  than  the  righteous 
retribution  he  had  been  silently  approving. 
His  first  private  sentiment  was  one  of  hearty 
approval.  Being  his  son,  what  could  Joe  do 
but  cast  off  all  rule  but  self-rule?  Then  she 
gave  him  Joe's  letter  to  read,  and  his  surprise 
and  satisfaction  were  complete. 


I58  MASTER  OF  HIS  FATE. 

"  There's  summat  in  this  lad  after  all ;  sum. 
mat  more  than  ordinary,  Mrs.  Braithwaite." 

"  Please,  father,  call  me  Edith." 

"  Varry  well,  if  ta  wants  it  so.  There's  a 
deal  in  this  lad  of  ours,  after  all,  Edith.  I  like 
what  he  hes  done.  It  is  t'  most  sensible  thing 
I  iver  knew  him  do  ;  except  happen  t'  marrying 
o'  thee." 

"  Father,  there  is  so  much  that  must  be  done, 
so  much  to  think  of,  and  I  am  not  able  to-day 
for  thought  or  work.  Will  you  come  and  take 
dinner  with  me  to-morrow?  To-morrow  is 
Saturday.  The  mill  closes  early  on  Satur 
day." 

"  Well,  I'm  sure  I  don't  know ;  I  hev  a  deal 
to  do.  Meddling  between  man  and  wife  is  a 
bad  business." 

"  Father,  do  come.     I  have  no  one  but  you." 

"Then  I'll  come,  Edith,  and  I'll  study  out 
things  a  bit,  and  I'll  give  thee  t'  varry  best  of 
advice.  I  wouldn't  go  to  Perkins  wi'  this 
bother  if  I  was  thee." 

"  You  are  the  only  person  in  the  world  I 
would  have  come  to  about  Joe,  father." 

"  And  thou  will  varry  soon  find  out  that  ta 
hesn't  made  any  mistake  in  coming  to  me." 


EDITH'S  HARD   BLOW.  159 

"  What  time  do  you  like  your  dinner, 
father?" 

"  I  like  it  at  four  o'clock." 

"  Is  there  any  thing  you  are  particularly 
fond  of?  " 

"Yes,  my  lass.  I'm  fond  of  a  roast  of  beef, 
and  a  Yorkshire  pudding — well  browned.  And 
if  ta  doesn't  mind  t'  trouble,  I'd  like  a  bit  of 
berry  pie,  and  some  old  Stilton." 

"  Oh,  father,  what  a  sensible  man  you  are ! 
It  is  so  comfortable  to  have  men  say  just  what 
they  want,  without  apologies  or  nonsense." 

"  It  is  t'  right  way,  and  ivery  woman  knows 
it  is  t'  right  way.  If  Joe  hed  only  held  thee  in 
wi'  a  tighter  rein,  both  o'  you  would  hev  got 
on  varry  nicely.  Bless  thy  heart,  Edith  \ 
women  aren't  happy  if  they  hev  their  awn 
way.  It  isn't  natural,  ta  knows,  and  what  isn't 
natural  comes  to  grief." 

Then  he  amused  and  amazed  his  hands  by 
escorting  her  to  her  carriage.  He  walked  very 
proudly  with  the  beautiful  woman  on  his  arm ; 
and  to  see  the  care  with  which  he  wrapped  her 
rugs  around  her,  and  the  courtesy  with  which 
he  lifted  his  hat  to  her  in  farewell,  set  the 
whole  mill  in  a  flutter,  and  divided  it  into  two 


160  MASTER  OF  HIS  FATE. 

parties :  one,  certain  that  "  t'  owd  fellow  wer* 
going  to  get  wedded  again  ;  "  and  the  other 
quietly  scornful  over  such  an  unlikely  event. 
"  It's  nobbut  young  Joe's  wife,"  they  said. 

For  once  Amos  felt  unable  to  cast  away  his 
personal  affairs,  and  devote  himself  to  his  mill. 
"I'm  fair  dazed  like!"  he  said,  sitting  down 
before  the  table  and  holding  his  head  in  his 
hands.  "  To  think  of  Joe  going  'prentice  at 
this  time  o'  day!  Joe  Braithwaite  is  no  fool! 
Going  to  Sam,  too  !  Well,  I  niver !  Dal  it  all, 
it  fair  caps  me !  And  I  hev  promised  to  go  to 
owd  Bradley's  ;  no,  to  Joe's,  I  mean,"  and  then 
he  laughed  heartily,  and  by  sheer  force  of  will 
compelled  himself  to  examine  some  yarns  and 
write  his  letters. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

EDITH    WINS   TWO   VICTORIES. 

Wisdom  is  often  nearer  when  we  stoop 
Than  when  we  soar. 

A  creature  not  too  bright  and  good 
For  human  nature's  daily  food  : 
For  transient  sorrows,  simple  wiles, 
Praise,  blame,  love,  kisses,  tears  and  smiles. 

DITH  left  the  presence  of  her  father-in-law 
I  j  with  a  sense  of  great  satisfaction.  She 
had  heard  that  he  was  rude  and  cross,  and  she 
had  feared  that  he  would  reproach  her.  On 
the  contrary  he  had  been  unusually  kind  and 
considerate.  She  felt  able  to  face  the  world, 
able  to  endure  her  husband's  absence,  with  such 
a  father-in-law  at  her  side.  In  reality  Amos 
had  never  had  any  ill-will  towards  Edith.  He 
had  thought  well  of  her  in  the  beginning,  for 
choosing  Joe  for  her  husband.  During  the  first 
year  of  their  marriage,  he  had  watched  events 


1 62  MASTER    OF  HIS  FATE. 

very  closely,  and  had  felt  personally  flattered 
by  the  young  couple's  "  carryings  on,"  their 
visitings  at  great  houses,  and  their  entertain 
ment  of  great  people. 

He  had  read  also  of  Edith's  beauty,  and  he 
had  never  missed  a  word  of  any  paragraph  de 
scribing  her  dresses  and  jewels,  even  although 
many  of  the  words  were  in  that  objectionable 
French  language,  which  "  hadn't  a  sensible, 
understandable  word  in  it."  And  yet  he  felt 
proud  of  the  tone  which  the  italicized  words 
gave  to  the  descriptions ;  he  said  them  care 
fully  over  to  himself,  and  generally  from  the 
context  arrived  at  something  near  their  mean 
ing. 

So  that  altogether  he  was  well  inclined  to 
Edith.  Then  he  was  also  one  of  those  funda 
mental  men  who  have  never  frittered  or  scoffed 
away  the  natural  influence  of  feminine  beauty. 
A  lovely  woman,  splendidly  arrayed,  made  an 
easy  conquest  of  Amos.  After  Edith  had 
gone  her  influence  remained  ;  she  left  some 
thing  like  a  strain  of  sweet  music  in  his  heart 
all  day. 

"  My  word  !  "  he  said  to  himself,  "  Joe  hed  a 
lot  o'  spunk  to  mak'  up  to  a  woman  like  that. 


EDITH    WINS  TWO    VICTORIES.  163 

I  would  hev  thought  of  Queen  Victoria  just  as 
soon.  And  she  called  me  '  fayther  '  too,  as 
natural  as  iver  was.  And  I'm  going  to  eat  a 
bit  o'  dinner  with  her  to-morrow.  It  caps  me  ! 
I  do  wonder  what  owd  Luke  would  say  if  he 
knew  his  daughter  called  me  '  fayther,'  and 
came  to  me  for  advice  and  protection  ;  and  that 
I  was  going  to  put  my  feet  under  t'  grand 
mahogany  table  he  bought  for  himsen  !  Life 
is  a  fair  whirligig,  and  nobody  can  mak'  heads 
or  tails  of  it." 

But  the  whirligig  pleased  him,  and  he  was  so 
unusually  smiling  and  bland  in  his  manner  that 
the  hands  snickered  to  each  other  over  his 
infatuation,  the  general  opinion  being  that 
after  all  "  it  took  an  owd  fool  to  mak'  a  big 
fool." 

Edith  also  was  quite  aware  of  the  triumph  of 
her  first  move.  But  she  felt  considerably  more 
doubt  and  hesitation  concerning  her  next  one. 
In  the  afternoon  she  dressed  herself  much  more 
plainly.  She  was  going  to  Leeds  to  see  Martha 
Thrale,  and  she  had  a  very  certain  opinion  that 
Martha  would  not  be  won  by  either  beauty  of 
person  or  splendor  of  apparel,  even  though  in 
the  latter  respect  she  should  outdo  Solomon  in 


1 64  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

all  his  glory.  But  the  modest  elegance  of  her 
own  black  suit  was  fully  compensated  for  by 
baby's  magnificence.  All  that  lace  and  satin 
and  fine  embroidery  could  do  to  enhance  the 
plump,  pink  loveliness  of  the  little  lad  was  done. 
For  it  was  upon  baby  that  Edith  relied  for  her 
afternoon  conquest. 

The  sudden  pulling-up  of  the  handsome 
carriage  before  the  door  startled  Martha  a  little. 
She  saw  Edith  descend  from  it,  and  her  first 
thought  was,  "Joe  is  varry  ill,  no  doubt,  and 
she  hes  come  for  me  to  nurse  him.  There'll  be 
summat  for  Aunt  Martha  to  do,  as  nobody  else 
likes  to  do,  or  Edith  Braithwaite  would  niver 
hev  come  my  way,"  etc.,  etc. 

She  was  putting  on  a  clean  white  apron  and 
her  best  cap  to  such  thoughts,  when  a  little 
servant  girl  said,  "Please,  ma'am,  there's  a  varry 
grand  lady  in  t'  parlor,  and  she's  wanting  to 
speak  to  thee." 

"  What  of  that?"  answered  Martha  fretfully. 
"  Go  on  wi'  thy  own  work,  and  I'll  attend  to  t' 
grand  lady,  when  I  git  ready  for  her." 

And  she  entered  the  parlor  so  stiffly  that 
Edith  found  it  impossible  to  say  Aunt  Martha 
as  at  the  mill  she  had  said  father.  But  Martha 


EDITH    WINS    TWO    VICTORIES.  165 

put  out  her  hand  and  advanced  to  meet  her 
saying, 

"  Keep  your  sitting,  ma'am.  I  hope  you 
haven't  come  \vi'  any  bad  news  ?  " 

"  I  have  come  to  tell  you  something,  Miss 
Thrale,  and  to  ask  you  to  be  my  friend." 

"  There's  a  deal  will  depend  on  what  you 
hev  come  to  tell  me.  ma'am  ;  and  as  for  my 
friendship,  it  isn't  worth  a  half-penny  more  to 
day  than  it  iver  was." 

"  To  me  it  is  worth  a  great  deal  more.  I 
want  you  to  stand  by  me  while  Joe  is  away. 
There  is  no  woman  living  but  you  that  I  have 
any  right  to  ask  this  favor  of.  And  I  want 
you  to  teach  me  how  to  be  a  better  wife  to  Joe 
when  he  comes  back." 

''Joe  away  !     What  iver  does  ta  mean  ?" 

"  I  have  not  been  very  kind  to  Joe." 

"Isudn't  wonder!  Well,  ta  needn't  cry. 
Crying  niver  helps  any  body  but  babies." 

"  Joe  has  gone  to  his  godfather  in  Manches 
ter." 

"  To  Samuel  Yorke  ?     Does  ta  mean  that  ?  " 

"  Yes.  He  has  gone  to  him  for  two 
years." 

"  For  two  years!     I  am    fair  taken   aback." 


1 66  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

'  He  has  gone  to  learn  calico  weaving  and 
printing." 

"  But  what  has  he  done  a  thing  like  that 
for?" 

"  He  does  not  want  to  use  my  money — I 
know  it  is  all  my  fault.  Oh,  Aunt  Martha, 
please  let  me  call  you  Aunt  Martha  —  forgive 
me !  I  know  it  is  all  my  fault." 

"  I  haven't  a  doubt  but  that  it  is  thy  fault. 
I  tell  thee,  it  needs  a  bigger  heart  to  tak' 
money  than  to  give  money.  Joe  allus  took 
what  I  could  spare  him  in  such  a  way  as  made 
it  a  favor  and  a  pleasure  to  hev  him  take  it. 
VVhativer  hes  ta  been  doing  to  Joe  to  drive  him 
off  to  hard  work?  " 

"  It  began  with  Perkins." 

"There!  I  said  so.  I  knew  it  would.  I 
told  Joe,  t'  first  morning  Perkins  took  his  place 
in  thy  business,  that  trouble  had  begun." 

"  I  can  see  now  that  I  treated  him  badly 
about  the  management  of  Bradley  Manor  ;  but 
I  did  it  for  the  best." 

"  I  think  thou  treated  him  shamefully.  I 
won't  mince  matters,  nor  pick  and  choose  my 
words  about  it.  Thou  treated  Joe  shamefully  ! 
Thou  threw  a  doubt  and  a  slur  on  him  before 


EDITH   WINS   TWO    VICTORIES.  167 

ivery  one.  Let  me  tell  thee  how  people  talked 
of  it:  'She  may  be  varry  fond  o'  him,  but 
she's  too  clever  a  lass  to  trust  a  penny  o'  her 
money  through  his  hands.  She  wants  a  hand 
some  lad  to  husband  her,  but  she  knew  owd 
Perkins  was  t'  best  husband  for  land  and  t' 
gold.  Joe  Braithwaite  is  nobbut  a  figure 
head  in  Bradley.  T'  varry  servants  call  him  t' 
Missis's  husband.'" 

"Aunt  Martha,  please  stop.  I  deserve  it  all, 
I  deserve  it  all,  but  I  cannot  bear  to  hear  such 
things." 

"  How  does  ta  think  I  liked  to  hear  'em? 
Joe  is  all  t'  same  to  me  as  if  he  was  my  own 
son.  I  mothered  him  from  t'  varry  hour  he 
was  born." 

"Then  you  should  have  come  and  told  me 
how  people  were  talking.  Indeed,  I  think  you 
should  !  It  was  your  duty  to  have  done  so:" 

"  I  don't  want  thee  to  tell  me  my  duty,  not 
I.  I  did  my  duty  to  Joe — ivery  way  —  until 
he  was  thy  husband.  And  ask  thysen  if  I  hed 
come  and  told  thee,  say  a  month  ago,  or  a  week 
ago,  what  answer  thou  would  hev  given  me. 
I'll  tell  thee  ;  it  would  have  been:  'That  med 
dlesome  old  maid,  that  bothering,  vulgar  old 


1 68  MASTER    OF  HIS  FATE. 

woman  ; '  and  thou  would  hev  looked  at  me  as 
if  thy  eyes  were  pistols.  Varry  likely  thou 
would  hev  told  me  in  so  many  plain  words  to 
mind  my  own  business  and  leave  thine  alone." 

"Oh,  I  don't  think  I  would." 

"  Yes,  ta  would.  I  hevn't  a  doubt  of  it. 
There  wasn't  any  body  in  this  world  that  could 
hev  made  thee  see  thy  faults  but  Joe.  And  I 
am  right  glad  he  hes  hed  t'  gumption  at  last  to 
tak'  his  manhood's  rights  from  under  thy  feet. 
I  am  that !  I  think  better  o'  Joe  than  iver  I 
did  before.  And  if  he  wants  my  help  I'll  work 
my  owd  fingers  to  t'  bone  for  him  ;  and  glad  to 
do  it.  Poor  Joe!  Poor,  dear  Joe  !  " 

"Now  you  are  crying,  Aunt  Martha." 

"  I'm  not  crying  for  mysen — I'm  crying  for 
Joe." 

"  Don't  do  it.  You  make  my  punishment 
greater  than  I  can  bear.  Dear  Aunt — " 

"  Nay,  nay,  I'm  none  dear  to  thee." 

"  You  shall  be — you  are.  Any  one  Joe  lovea 
is  dear  to  me.  Let  me  help  you  to  help  Joe. 
I  know  he  won't  take  money  from  me,  but  let 
me  send  some  through  you.  Let  us  help  him 
together." 

"  Does  ta  think  I  would  play  Joe  a  trick  like 


EDITH    WINS   TWO    VICTORIES.  169 

that?  Niver!  And  I  wouldn't  deserve  to  be 
forgiven.  He's  gone  away  to  show  that  he  can 
do  without  thee.  Does  ta  really  think  I'd 
help  thee  to  spoil  his  plan  ?  Samuel  Yorke 
will  pay  him  all  he  earns,  I'll  be  bound  ;  and  if 
it  is  a  bit  scrimping,  all  the  better,  mabbe,  for 
t'  poor,  dear  lad." 

By  this  time,  Martha  had  in  a  measure  lost 
control  of  herself ;  she  was  softly  crying,  with 
her  face  hidden  behind  her  apron.  Edith  sat 
down  by  her  side  and,  touching  her  hand,  said, 
"  Aunt  Martha,  are  you  not  going  to  stand  by 
Joe's  wife  while  he  is  away?  I  am  sure  Joe 
would  like  you  to  do  so." 

"  I  don't  know.  I  must  hev  a  bit  o'  time  to 
think  things  over.  I  hevn't  liked  thee,  and 
thou  has  niver  given  me  any  cause  to  like 
thee." 

"  My  father-in-law  forgave  me  at  once,  and 
he  is  coming  to  Bradley  to-morrow,  to  con 
sider  what  is  to  be  done  while  Joe  is  away. 
Are  you  going  to  be  harder  than  he  ?" 

"  Amos  Braithwaite  allus  gave  up  to  a  pretty 
face  ;  it  tak's  more  than  face-beauty  to  get  on 
my  kind  side." 

"  Wait  a  minute,  Aunt    Martha."     Then,  to 


17°  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

the  old  lady's  amazement,  she  left  the  room  in  a 
great  hurry,  returning  in  a  moment  or  two  with 
baby  in  her  arms.  Before  Martha  could  speak, 
the  child  was  on  her  knee.  It  was  fast  asleep 
among  its  laces  and  pink  ribbons,  the  sweetest 
bit  of  rosy,  smiling  humanity  possible  to  im 
agine. 

"  Joe's  baby,  Aunt  Martha.  Will  not  baby's 
innocent  beauty  find  your  kind  side  for  me?" 

The  temptation  was  an  irresistible  one.  She 
could  not  help  lifting  it  in  her  arms.  She  could 
not  but  hold  it  to  her  breast,  and  gaze  down 
into  its  pretty  face.  And  as  she  did  so  it 
suddenly  opened  its  two  great  blue  eyes  and 
smiled  at  her.  She  kissed  it,  she  cried  over  it, 
she  called  it  her  bonny  little  Joe;  she  broke 
into  smiles  herself,  and,  looking  up,  met  Edith's 
smiles  and  tears,  the  very  complement  of  her 
own.  She  surrendered  completely  and  at 
once. 

"  Tak'  off  your  bonnet,  Edith,  and  we'll  hev 
a  cup  o'  tea  together.  I  can't  let  t'  little  lad 
go  just  yet.  My  word  !  But  he  is  like  his 
father  !  I  remember  when  Joe  was  just  such 
another  baby.  How  many  teeth  has  he  got, 
Edith?  And  he  has  curly  hair,  too!  But  let 


EDITH    WINS    TWO    VICTORIES.  171 

us  have  a'  this  satin  and  lace  off  t'  little  lad. 
Eh !  but  these  are  bonny  socks  he  hes  on  his 
feet !  I  hev  his  father's  first  leather  shoes,  red 
morocco,  ankle-tights,  they  are — and  I'd  like  to 
give  him  them." 

So  the  two  women,  with  the  child  between 
them,  sat  and  drank  tea  together,  and  Martha 
listened  to  such  confessions  as  Edith  chose  to 
make,  with  more  tolerance  than  might  have 
been  expected.  But  Edith  did  not  blame  her 
self  so  unreservedly  to  Martha  as  she  had  done 
to  Amos.  A  kind  of  instinct  told  her  that  it 
was  both  unwise  and  unnecessary.  A  man  can 
make  allowances  for  the  exaggerated  self-ac 
cusations  of  a  woman  suffering  from  the  re 
proaches  of  a  wounded  affection  ;  a  woman  is 
never  inclined  to  believe  another  woman  any 
better  than  she  believes  herself. 

And  Edith  had  determined,  while  Joe  was 
absent  from  her,  only  to  know  Joe's  friends. 
If  she  needed  defence  of  any  kind,  they  were 
the  most  proper  people  to  defend  her.  If  she 
needed  society,  she  would  seek  it  only  with 
them,  and  thus  give  no  occasion  whatever  for 
evil  speaking.  Besides,  she  knew  they  would 
write  to  Joe.  She  wanted  them  to  write  of 


I?2  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE, 

her,  and  to  write  kindly  of  her.  She  was  de 
termined  Joe  should  hear  of  her  from  every 
side.  She  would  not  suffer  herself  to  be  for 
gotten. 

Upon  the  whole  her  visit  to  Martha  Thrale 
was  a  far  greater  success  than  she  had  dared  to 
hope.  Martha  had  taken  the  baby  to  her 
heart,  and  she  had  taken  the  mother  on  proba 
tion.  And  Edith  felt  that  it  would  be  worth 
\vhile  winning  the  heart  of  the  stubborn  but 
true  old  lady.  She  knew  that  it  was  something 
of  a  triumph  to  have  obtained  from  her  a 
promise  to  come  to  Bradley  once  a  week,  even 
though  the  concession  had  been  only  Avon  by 
representing  to  her  that,  in  order  to  prevent 
people  speaking  evil  of  Joe's  wife,  Joe's  rela 
tions  must  visit  her.  For  Joe's  sake  the  first 
visits  would  doubtless  be  made,  but  Edith  was 
determined  to  very  soon  win  for  them  a  much 
pleasanter  personal  character. 

The  next  day,  just  at  noon,  the  engine  in 
Bevin  Mill  ceased  its  panting  and  groaning, 
the  wheels  and  pulleys  their  revolving,  and  the 
little  streets  and  lanes  around  were  almost  im 
passable  for  half  an  hour  with  workers  loitering 
homeward.  Generally  Amos  enjoyed  his  quiet 


EDITH   WINS  TWO   VICTORIES.  i?3 

mill  on  a  Saturday  afternoon.  He  liked  to 
wander  through  it ;  to  privately  inspect  all  the 
wheels  and  bands  and  looms ;  and  to  stand 
before  the  resting  engine  in  its  fine  chamber, 
panelled  with  stained  woods,  and  feed  his  own 
pride  with  thoughts  of  this  marvellous  creature, 
the  nervous  centre  that  moved  all  his  vast 
machinery,  and  gave  life  to  the  devil  and  speed 
to  the  shuttle.  But  this  day  he  had  other 
thoughts  and  plans.  That  morning  he  had 
received  a  letter  from  Samuel  Yorke,  and  in  it 
Sam  had  dealt  as  faithfully  with  Amos  as  he 
had  personally  done  with  Joe.  "  But  Sam  allus 
lectured  me  above  a  bit  when  we  were  boys 
together,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  He  were  allus 
too  good  by  half."  And  as  these  thoughts 
passed  through  his  mind  he  spread  Sam's  letter 
open  on  his  desk  and  read  it  again,  preparatory 
to  answering  it. 

DEAR  OLD  FRIEND  :  I  should  think,  Amos 
Braithwaite,  thou  would  feel  a  bit  ashamed  of 
me  having  to  take  thy  son  in  hand,  and  to  teach 
him  how  to  make  a  living  at  this  time  of  day. 
Joe  has  come  to  me  for  two  years,  and  I  am 
going  to  do  all  I  can  for  him.  I  should  ask 
any  one  but  thee  a  big  apprentice  fee,  but  if  I 
asked  thee  for  one  I  don't  think  thou  would 
feel  it  thy  duty  to  pay  it.  Joe  is  a  fine  lad,  and 


174  MASTER    OF  HIS  FATE. 

he  would  have  been  a  deal  finer  if  thou  had 
brought  him  up  in  the  way  he  ought  to  go. 
Late  as  it  is,  I  am  going  to  let  him  find  out 
what  earning  his  bread  by  the  sweat  of  his 
brow  means,  on  every  week  day,  and  what 
going  to  the  chapel  means  on  every  Sunday. 
But  thou  knows  I  will  be  as  good  as  good  to 
him.  I  shall  remember  the  time  when  we  were 
hard-working  lads  together,  and  I  shall  re 
member  my  own  dear  lads,  and  thou  need  never 
have  one  worry  about  thy  Joe.  He'll  do  pretty 
middling  yet,  no  doubt.  Deary  me,  Amos  ! 
How  life  does  go  on  !  It  is  fifty  years  ago  this 
morning  since  me  and  thee  stood  on  Windhill 
brow  together,  and  I  said  good-bye  to  thee, 
Amos,  and  turned  my  face  Manchester  way, 
and  thou  said  "  Good-bye  Sam,"  and  turned 
thy  face  to  Bradley  Mill.  We  were  lads  then, 
and  there  were  something  uncommon  like  tears 
in  our  eyes.  Thou  hast  made  a  big  lot  of 
money  since,  but  don't  thee  forget  what  a  big 
fool  thou  will  be  if  thou  does  not  make  out 
thy  title  clear  to  a  place  in  the  kingdom  of 
Heaven.  And  if  thou  hast  not  yet  done  so, 
make  haste  about  it,  Amos;  thou  hasn't  any 
time  to  lose.  God  bless  thee.  Joe  sends  his 
love  and  respects  to  thee. 

Thy  friend, 

SAMUEL   YORKE. 

This  letter  touched  and  pleased  Amos.  He 
was  used  to  Sam's  plain  talking-,  and  had 
generally  felt  all  its  truth  and  kindness.  And 
he  took  comfort  from  the  fact  of  Joe  being  with 
this  man  "  too  good  by  half,"  and  had  far  more 


EDITH    WINS    TWO    VICTORIES.  17$ 

respect  for  his  son,  and  far  more  hope  for  his 
f  uture.than  when  he  believed  him  to  be  under  the 
counsels  of  one  able  to  teach  him  "  how  to  steal 
by  line  and  level."  His  heart,  too,  was  softened 
by  Sam's  allusion  to  the  past  and  to  the  future. 
He  recalled  with  a  sigh  the  gray,  windy 
morning,  and  the  two  lads  in  their  heavy  clogs 
and  rough  clothing,  standing  with  their  hands 
clasped,  as  they  said  to  each  other  a  long  good 
bye.  And  he  thought,  as  he  had  frequently 
done  before,  that  Sam  was  right  enough  about 
its  being  time  to  look  after  the  next  world  a 
bit,  and  that  if  he  could  possibly  manage  it 
he  would  begin  going  to  church  the  next 
Sunday  morning.  Then  he  dipped  his  pen 
into  the  ink  and  wrote  : — 

DEAR  OLD  SAM  :  If  thou  has  got  my  Joe 
to  train  up  in  the  way  he  should  go,  thou  has 
got  something  worth  the  training;  and  rather 
more  work  on  thy  hands  than  thou  thinks  for. 
But  if  thou  can  only  make  him  mind  thee,  as 
well  as  thou  used  to  make  me  mind  thee,  thou 
may  happen  turn  out  as  steady  a  going  man  as 
thyself.  As  to  'prentice  fees,  I'm  glad  thou 
doesn't  expect  me  to  pay  thee  one,  for  I  should 
have  to  disappoint  thee.  When  Joe  is  doing 
good  work,  get  one  from  him  :  he  can  afford  it, 
I'm  sure,  and  he  will  get  to  see  into  the  value 
of  thy  teaching  better  if  he  has  to  pay  for  it. 


176  MASTER    OF  HIS  FATE. 

I  didn't  send  him  to  thy  school,  and  it's  not 
very  likely  I  will  pay  for  thy  fees.  I'm  aston 
ished  as  thou  should  waste  time  and  trouble 
asking  me  about  such  a  thing.  I  hope  Joe  will 
be  more  of  a  comfort  to  thee  than  he  seems 
to  have  been  to  any  one  else  yet.  His  wife 
called  to  see  me  yesterday.  She  is  a  woman 
that  any  man  might  be  proud  of;  how  Joe  can 
bide  to  leave  her  and  stay  with  thee  for  two 
years  is  one  of  them  things  as  would  cap  any 
body  in  their  senses. 

Thine,  dear  Sam, 
AMOS  BRAITHWAITE. 

Having  read  over  the  letter  and  found  it  to 
his  satisfaction,  he  sealed  and  posted  it,  and 
then  went  home  and  dressed  himself  for  his 
visit  to  Bradley  Court.  All  the-way  there  he 
was  in  a  state  of  suppressed  exaltation,  and 
though  far  too  prudent  and  proud  to  show  his 
amazement,  the  beautiful  park  and  gardens, 
the  fine  house,  the  silver  and  servants  and 
general  grandeur,  affected  him  very  strangely. 

To  think  how  Bradley  had  hated  him  !  And 
now  he  had  a  kind  of  proprietorship  in  all  that 
he  had  owned !  And  surely  if  Bradley  had 
often  set  him  in  Cold-Shoulder  Lane,  Joe  had 
paid  back  that  snubbing  very  effectually  by 
setting  Edith  in  the  same  place  for  a  term  of 
two  years  at  a  time.  Upon  the  whole  his  bill 


EDITH  WINS    TWO    VICTORIES.  l?7 

of  offences  against  his  old  enemy  was  getting 
a  very  full  and  satisfactory  settlement. 

He  told  Edith  that  he  had  had  a  letter  from 
Samuel  Yorke,  but  he  did  not  show  it  to  hen 
Sam  had  a  free  way  of  speaking  to  him,  a 
habit  of  reproof,  which  he  thought  might  be  a 
bad  example  to  set  before  Mrs.  Joe.  He  was 
very  desirous  to  stand  well  with  his  new 
daughter ;  so  he  only  told  her  what  pleasant 
promises  Yorke  had  made  about  Joe,  and  how 
certain  he  was  that  Joe's  queer  notion  would 
turn  out  to  be  the  wisest  notion  he  had. 

Edith's  first  consultation  with  her  father-in- 
law  was  in  respect  to  the  prevention  of  any 
general  public  discussion  of  their  family  affairs. 
"Joe  has  left  me,  father,"  she  said,  feelingly, 
"  and  there  is  nobody  but  you  to  take  care  of 
my  good  name." 

"  It  will  be  a  bad  move  for  any  one  tnat  says 
a  wrong  word  o'  thee,"  he  answered.  "  I'll 
give  them  it  that  well  that  they  won't  know 
where  to  hide  themselves." 

"  What  shall  we  say  about  Joe's  long  ab 
sence?  " 

"  Say  ?  Say  the  truth,  my  lass  ;  truth  may  be 
blamed,  but  it  never  can  be  shamed.  Say 


178  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

that  Joe  was  disgusted  with  t'  law,  and  weary 
to  death  o'  doing  nothing.  Say  that  he  wanted 
to  learn  some  straightforward,  interesting 
trade,  that  he  could  mak'  a  bit  o'  money  by, 
and  that  he  hes  gone  to  his  godfather  to  learn 
it.  Surely  to  goodness,  there's  naught  wrong 
in  that  !  I'd  like  to  see  t'  man  as  thinks  there 
is,  that's  all !  He'd  come  to  a  varry  different 
opinion  in  a  minute  or  two,  I  think." 

"  People  will  say,  why  did  he  not  go  to  his 
father?" 

"  Tell  them  his  fayther  wouldn't  hev  him; 
and  if  they  want  to  know  any  more  of  thy 
business  send  'em  to  me,  for  t'  information.  I 
sail  enjoy  giving  it  to  them,  varry  much." 

"  And  as  long  as  Joe  is  away  I  am  under 
your  protection,  father  ?  " 

"I  sud  say  thou  art.  And  I'll  tak'  good 
care  of  thee  ;  see  if  I  don't." 

"  Every  week  I  shall  ride  over  to  Bevin  Hall 
to  see  you  ;  and  every  Saturday  you  will  come 
to  Bradley  to  see  me." 

Amos  fidgetted  and  looked  uneasy  at  the 
proposal. 

"Why,  ta  sees,  there  is  no  woman  body  at 
Bevin  ;  Martha  Thrale  went  into  a  tantrum  wi' 


EDITH    WINS    TWO    VICTORIES.  1 79 

me  about  Joe,  and  when  Joe  took  himsen  off 
she  went  with  him.  I  hevn't  bothered  rnysen 
about  women  since,  nor  about  t'  house  either. 
If  I  keep  Bevin  Mill  spick  and  span  it  suits 
me  well  enough,  and  I  don't  bother  mysen 
about  t'  house.  I  sud  rather  think  it  is  in  a 
bad  state ;  t'  mice  and  t'  moths  hev  been  hev- 
ing  it  to  themselves,  and  there  isn't  a  room  in 
it  fit  for  a  lady  like  thee." 

"  Poor  Martha!  I  am  afraid  I  made  it  almost 
impossible  for  Joe  to  show  her  the  least  affec 
tion  or  remembrance." 

"  He  shouldn't  hev  let  thee  hinder  him  ;  I 
wouldn't.  Martha  was  good  to  Joe.  It  was  a 
bit  mean  of  thee  to  come  between  them." 

"  Every  hour  reveals  some  new  thing  in 
which  I  wasn't  fair  or  kind  to  Joe." 

"  I  sudn't  wonder.  If  a  woman  iver  does 
get  her  eyes  opened  to  her  awn  faults,  she's 
varry  likely  to  see  into  things  that  will  keep 
her  on  t'  stool  of  repentance  a  long  time.  I 
don't  say  that  Joe  is  without  faults  ;  he  be 
haved  varry  badly  to  me.  But  still,  I  hev  no 
doubt  thou  aggravated  him  into  doing  lots  of 
things  it  wasn't  Joe  Braithwaite's  nature  to 
do." 


l8o  MASTER  OF  HIS  FATE. 

"  But  I  will  be  kind  and  gentle  now,  father." 
"  I  hev  no  doubt.  Thou  wouldn't  find  it 
easy  to  be  cross  wi'  me,  Mrs.  Braithwaite.  Joe 
was  too  good  natured.  He  just  led  thee  into 
temptation.  No  woman  can  resist  t'  pleasure 
o'  ruling  her  husband,  when  he  puts  t'  reins 
and  whip  in  her  hand.  And  what  comes  o' 
women  ruling?  Sin  and  sorrow,  Mrs.  B.,  sin 
and  sorrow  allus." 


CHAPTER   XII. 

AT    BRADLEY. 

"  A  man  he  seems  of  cheerful  yesterdays 
And  confident  to-morrows." 

"  The  primal  duties  shine  aloft  like  stars  ; 

The  charities  that  soothe,  and  heal,  and  bless, 
Are  scattered  at  the  feet  of  men  like  flowers." 

"  One  in   whom    persuasion  and    belief    had    ripened 
into  faith." 

MORAL  energy  is  never  a  failure  ;  but  when 
Joe  came  to  realize  his  position  he  was 
a  little  amazed  at  the  result  of  his  godfather's 
prompt  acceptance  of  his  regret  for  an  unsatis 
factory  past  and  his  resolutions  for  a  better 
future.  He  had  really  had  no  idea  of  such 
heroic  treatment  of  his  dissatisfaction.  He 
had  coquetted  with  the  idea  of  going  to  his 
godfather  for  some  months,  and  when  the  visit 
to  Manchester  was  proposed  he  had  deter 
mined  to  take  the  preliminary  steps  to  a  wiser 
and  more  independent  life.  But  so  rapid  a 


l8«  MASTER    OF  HIS  FATE. 

settlement  of  the  affair  had  never  occurred  to 
him  as  possible. 

He  had  expected  to  make  some  arrangement 
with  Yorke,  and  then  secure  his  wife's  sanction 
to  his  plan.  He  wanted  to  get  across  the 
stream,  but  he  had  a  sort  of  pleasure  in  linger 
ing  on  the  bank  and  anticipating  the  necessary 
plunge.  He  was  a  little  angry  at  himself,  for 
submitting  to  that  peculiar,  forceful  something 
in  his  godfather's  manner  which  had  gone  at 
once  to  the  solution  of  his  difficulty  and  taken 
him  with  it. 

"  I  should  have  returned  home  again,  at 
least  for  a  month,"  he  thought.  "  There  are 
things  Edith  will  need  some  advice  about  ;  and 
I  have  only  put  her  more  than  ever  under  the 
influence  of  Perkins.  And  I  ought  to  see  and 
talk  with  her  on  my  plan,  and  I  did  not  bring 
my  wardrobe  and  books  with  me,  and  certainly 
I  do  not  like  the  idea  of  being  always  under 
the  eye  of  that  old  man.  He  is  too  masterful. 
I  must  have  some  different  arrangement  with 
him.  The  whole  affair  has  been  settled  in  too 
great  a  hurry." 

But  when  the  old  man  called  at  five  o'clock 
and  said,  "  Now  then,  Joe,  pick  up  thy  valise, 


AT  BRADLEY.  183 

my  lad.  If  we  don't  be  sharp  we'll  keep  din- 
ner  waiting,"  Joe  had  no  power  to  enter  the 
protest  he  was  thinking  of.  And  though  he 
felt  worried,  and  even  a  little  cross,  it  was 
impossible  to  show  his  temper  to  one  so 
genuinely  kind,  so  placidly  unconscious  of 
having  caused  worry  or  annoyance. 

They  stopped  at  a  large  brick  house  in  the 
suburbs  of  the  great  city.  It  stood  in  a  small,- 
shady  garden,  and  the  garden  was  surrounded 
by  a  brick  wall.  Great  solid  gates  admitted 
them  to  its  seclusion,  and  before  they  could 
ring  the  bell  the  door  was  opened  by  a  young 
girl,  who  said,  as  Yorke  removed  his  hat, 
"  Dinner  is  ready  to  serve,  sir." 

"Then  tell  Polly  to  hev  it  served.  Come, 
Joe,  a  bit  o'  dinner  will  mak'  a  new  man  o* 
thee." 

He  led  him  into  a  large,  comfortable  dining- 
room,  handsomely  furnished  with  the  solid 
woods  and  heavy  moreen  that  were  fashionable 
forty  years  ago.  The  windows  were  open,  but 
a  little  fire  burned  cheerfully  above  the  bright 
steel  hearth  furnishings;  and  the  table,  though 
small,  was  laid  with  the  utmost  nicety  and 
care.  Joe's  cover  appeared  as  if  by  magic.  If 


1 84  MASTER    OF  HIS  FATE. 

he  had  not  been  observant,  he  would  have 
supposed  that  he  had  been  expected. 

"  Sit  tha  down  at  t'  table  ;  thou  won't  hev  to 
wait  ;  "  and  with  the  words  the  door  opened, 
and  a  most  pleasant-looking  woman,  about 
fifty  years  old,  entered,  She  wore  a  black  stuff 
dress,  and  a  snow-white  cap  and  apron  ;  her 
round,  rosy  face  was  beaming  with  smiles,  and 
in  her  hands  she  carried  a  platter  with  a  cut  of 
fresh  salmon  on  it ;  it  was  boiled  to  perfection, 
and  laid  upon  white  damask  and  fresh  curled 
parsley. 

"  There,  now,  Master  Yorke  !  I  do  hope  as 
you  and  the  young  gentleman  hev  brought 
good  appetites  with  you.  A  bit  o'  fish  like 
that  is  made  for  good  men  and  good  eaters." 

"  We'll  be  varry  apt  to  do  our  duty,  Polly  ; 
hes  all  gone  well  to-day  ?  " 

"As  well  as  could  be  expected,  sir,  with 
giddy  young  girls  in  t'  house,  and  a  pottering 
owd  man  in  t'  yard  and  t'  garden." 

"  They  do  middling  well — with  thee — Polly." 

"Thank  you,  sir."  The  words  were  accom 
panied  by  a  little  courtesy,  and  Polly  withdrew, 
leaving  one  of  the  giddy  young  girls  to  wait 
on  the  table  and  bring  in  the  meat  and  dessert. 


AT  BRADLEY.  185 

As  Joe  soon  found  out,  this  conversation, 
slightly  varied  according  to  the  initial  dish  of 
the  meal,  was  an  every-day  event.  And  he 
got  to  feel,  as  Yorke  evidently  did,  that  Polly's 
handsome,  happy  face,  and  her  cordial  recom 
mendation,  imparted  a  kind  of  relish  to  all  the 
food  her  clever  hands  prepared. 

The  whole  dinner  was  excellent,  and  Yorke 
was  pleased  to  see  that  Joe  enjoyed  it.  "A 
man  who  doesn't  care  for  a  good  dinner,  Joe, 
doesn't  care  about  lots  of  other  good  things.  I 
hevn't  much  opinion  o'  him,"  said  Yorke,  as  he 
rose  with  a  face  full  of  content  from  the  table. 
Then  he  took  from  a  rack  in  the  chimney 
corner  a  clean,  long  clay  pipe,  and,  having  rilled 
it,  sat  silently  smoking,  while  every  trace  of 
dinner  was  quickly  and  quietly  removed.  Joe 
had  declined  the  pipe,  but  he  lit  a  cigar,  and 
for  half  an  hour  the  two  men  enjoyed  that 
delightful,  dreamy  repose  which  good  viands 
and  good  tobacco,  and  a  companionship  un- 
exacting  and  sympathetic,  seem  to  have  the 
power  to  give. 

By  and  by,  when  Joe's  cigar  was  finished, 
and  Yorke  had  tapped  the  ashes  out  of  his 


1 86  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

first  pipe,  and  was  lingeringly  refilling  the 
bowl,  he  began  to  talk. 

"  I  like  a  bit  o'  quiet  after  dinner,  Joe ;  and 
I  thought  we  hed  best  begin  as  we  would  be 
apt  to  carry  on." 

"  I  enjoyed  it  very  much." 

"  But  now  thou  can  talk.  I  shall  like  to 
hear  thee  talk  now.  I  heard  thou  was  a  year 
among  t'  foreigners.  Tell  us  summat  about 
thy  travels." 

This  was  a  subject  Joe  liked  to  talk  about. 
He  took  his  godfather  from  city  to  city,  and 
the  time  went  by  unheeded.  The  old  man 
was  charmed.  He  had  seen  nothing  of  life 
beyond  Bradford  and  Manchester ;  he  listened 
as  a  child  listens  to  a  fairy  story.  Insensibly 
the  room  darkened,  till  there  were  only  the 
gray  shadows  of  twilight,  and  the  ruddy,  fitful 
blaze  of  the  coal  fire.  Joe  had  been  talking 
about  Rome,  and  the  great  church  of  St. 
Peter. 

"  And  did  ta  really  go  into  a  popish  church, 
Joe  !  why,  howiver  did  ta  feel  about  it  ?" 

"  I  will  tell  you.  One  night  I  went  to  the 
Sistine  Chapel.  It  was  after  midnight,  just  be 
fore  the  dawning  of  Easter  Sunday.  They 


AT  BRADLEY.  187 

were  singing  what  they  call  the  Miserere.  At 
each  verse  a  light  was  put  out,  and  as  the 
darkness  grew  deeper  the  music  became 
sadder  and  sadder,  until  I  could  scarcely  en. 
dure  the  sorrowful  wail.  But  when  every  light 
had  been  put  out,  when  thick  darkness  had 
fallen  upon  the  kneeling  congregation,  then  a 
voice  began  to  sing;  such  a  voice,  godfather ; 
alone,  clear,  triumphant ;  it  sang  the  power  of 
the  God  of  Resurrection  ;  and  then  the  lights 
suddenly  blazed  forth,  and  the  whole  people 
rose  to  their  feet,  and  I  could  not  think  of  any 
thing  to  say,  but  '  Glory,  glory  be  to  God  ! '  " 

The  tears  were  in  Joe's  eyes,  and  Yorke's 
face  was  shining  with  the  rapture  of  his  own 
anticipations.  "  My  word,  Joe,"  he  said  in  a 
low,  soft  voice,  "  I  would  like  to  hear  a  hymn 
like  that ;  I'd  go  to  Rome  to  hear  it,  I  would 
that." 

They  were  silent  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then 
a  maid  brought  in  lights,  and  a  tray  with  tea, 
and  Yorke  said  :  "  Phoebe,  thou  tell  Polly  to 
hev  t'  room  above  this  one  got  ready  for  Mr. 
Braithwaite."  Then  turning  to  Joe — "  We  are 
early  birds  here,  my  lad.  I  sail  hev  thee 
called  on  t'  stroke  of  seven.  That  is  a  work- 


1 88  MASTER    OF  HIS  FATE. 

ing-man's  hour.  I  hope  tha  isn't  afraid  o* 
work." 

"Not  I." 

'•  Nor  ashamed  o'  it." 

"  Why  should  I  be  ashamed  of  it  ?  I'm  not 
any  better  than  you,  or  my  father." 

"And  depend  upon  it,  Joe,  labor  is  the  varry 
salt  of  life.  I  won't  hear  tell  o'  it  being  a  curse. 
Before  iver  *Adam  sinned,  when  he  was  first 
put  i'  Paradise,  he  was  commanded  to  dress 
and  keep  it.  The  Lord  works  for  us  all.  T' 
angels  run  to  and  fro,  doing  His  will  contin 
ually.  Ivery  man  ought  to  be  wisely  busy; 
and  I'll  tell  thee  what,  any  father  that  works 
hard,  in  order  that  his  children  may  hev  noth 
ing  to  do,  is  working  hard  to  mak'  them  as 
miserable  as  they  can  be." 

"  I  believe  it  all,  sir,  but — " 

"  Now,  Joe,  don't  thee  get  weak-hearted." 

"  I  was  thinking  of  my  wife  and  child." 

"  To  be  sure ;  thou  is  right  to  think  o'  them, 
but  they  can't  help  thee  in  what  ta  wants  to 
do,  and  they  would  be  varry  sure  to.  hinder 
thee.  For  two  years  thou  must  stick  to  thy 
work.  I'll  hev  naught  to  do  wi'  thee,  if  ta  is 
going  to  run  between  Bradley  and  Manchester. 


AT  BRADLEY.  189 

It  must  be  one  thing  or  t'  other.  Thou  wilt 
hev  to  fill  posts  where  ta  can't  be  absent." 

"You  mean  that  I  am  not  to  go  to  Bradley 
for  two  years." 

"  That  is  about  what  I  mean.  Thou  can't 
serve  two  masters ;  is  it  to  be  thy  wife,  or 
Samuel  Yorke?" 

"  Men  generally  manage  to  do  their  duty  to 
both  wife  and  business." 

"  Thine  is  a  particular  case,  Joe.  Because 
most  rivers  slope  gently  to  t'  sea,  that  doesn't 
prevent  Niagara  taking  a  leap  of  a  hundred 
and  fifty  feet.  Come,  Joe,  I  am  doing  t'  right 
thing  for  thee,  ivery  way.  Tak'  my  way  for 
two  years,  and  then  thou  can  tak'  thy  way  for 
all  t'  rest  o'  thy  life  ;  if  ta  doesn't  tak'  my  way, 
thou  art  going  to  mak'  a  mess  of  t'  whole  affair, 
and  I'll  hev  naught  to  do  with  it." 

There  was  something  irresistible  about  the 
man.  After  a  moment's  pause,  Joe  said  :  "  I 
will  do  as  you  think  best." 

They  were  walking  up-stairs  together  as  Joe 
came  to  this  decision.  Yorke  was  much 
pleased  with  it.  He  went  with  Joe  into  the 
room  prepared  for  him,  and  said,  with  a  sigh, 

"  It  was  William   Henry's  room  ;    tha'  sees  I 


19°  MASTER  OF  HIS  FATE. 

hevn't  moved  a  thing.  And  I'm  glad  I  hevn't; 
he  was  a  good,  kind  lad,  and  I  think  he'd  like 
to  know  thou  wert  comfortable  in  it.  Good 
night,  Joe.  We  sail  hev  some  happy  hours 
together,  I  can  see  that." 

Certainly  Joe  was  not  very  happy  at  that 
hour.  He  had  to  tell  Edith,  and  it  was  only 
after  many  efforts  he  succeeded  in  writing  her 
the  few  lines  she  received  the  night  she  was  so 
lovingly  expecting  him  home.  But  when  this 
letter  was  written  and  posted  the  difficulty  of 
Joe's  new  life  was  over.  For  to  the  strong  the 
irrevocable  brings  strength.  Come  what 
might,  he  would  now  stand  to  the  position  he 
had  taken. 

And  for  the  first  few  weeks  his  business  life 
was  not  altogether  a  pleasant  one.  The 
weather  was  damp  and  oppressive,  and  after 
his  country  life  the  dense  crowds  in  Dean's 
Gate,  profligate  and  miserable,  sickened  him. 
The  old  church,  with  its  lonely  yard,  and  its 
great  square  tower,  blackened  by  the  smoke  of 
every  factory  chimney  ever  built  in  Manchester, 
made  his  heart  pitiful.  He  wished  the  lank, 
white  spinners,  sodden  with  the  vapor  of  the 
mills,  and  husky  with  the  dust  of  the  cotton 


AT  BRADLEY.  191 

devils,  could  at  least  once  a  week  worship  amid 
green  fields.  And  he  thought  of  Bevin  Church, 
with  the  trees  whispering  round  it,  and  the 
bells  ringing  psalms  above  it,  and  the  hands 
coming  over  the  windy  wolds  to  pray  within  its 
white  walls. 

As  for  Market  street,  he  was  lost  amid  its 
hurry  and  bustle,  its  rush  and  tumble.  The 
enormous  lurries  with  their  gigantic  horses  and 
sulky  brutes  of  drivers  made  him  glad  to  get 
within  the  lesser  confusion,  and  the  less 
evident  hostility,  of  his  godfather's  mill.  And 
very  soon  he  became  interested  in  his  work, 
and  so  weary  with  it  that  he  found,  as  Yorke 
had  predicted,  no  inclination  to  go  beyond  the 
limits  of  his  daily  needs  and  duties. 

But  these  results  could  hardly  be  foreseen  in 
Bradley  and  Market-Bevin,  and  both  Edith 
and  Amos  Braithwaite  had  many  anxious  hours 
the  following  week.  After  the  father-in-law's 
visit  Edith  answered  Joe's  letter.  And  the 
answer  did  the  very  best  side  of  her  nature 
credit.  She  frankly  confessed  her  faults  ;  she 
assured  Joe  of  her  unalterable  affection.  She 
praised  the  spirit  which  had  dared  to  face  his 
mistakes  and  disappointments,  and  declared, 


I92  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

"  By  so  doing,  dear  Joe,  you  have  put  your  feet 
upon  your  ill-fortune  and  made  yourself  mas 
ter  of  your  fate.  I  have  never  before  been  so 
proud  of  you,  never  before  loved  you  half  so 
well." 

Then  she  told  him  of  her  visit  to  Aunt 
Martha  and  to  his  father,  and  of  the  latter's 
promise  to  take  dinner  with  her  the  following 
day.  "  And  I  hope  you  will  be  glad  that 
baby's  name  is  settled,"  she  said,  "  for  when 
Aunt  Martha  saw  him  she  instinctively  called 
him  little  Joe,  and  I  am  sure  he  can  have  no 
better  name  than  your  own." 

That  first  week  Edith  did  no':  go  over  to 
Bevin  Hall;  she  had  perceived  that  it  would  be 
inconvenient  to  Amos,  and  she  did  not  wish  to 
associate  herself  with  any  thing  troublesome 
to  his  daily  life.  But  about  Thursday  she  rode 
over  to  Leeds  again,  and  induced  Martha 
Thrale  to  come  back  with  her  to  Bradley  for 
a  week.  Martha  was  very  glad  to  go.  Her  arms 
had  been  aching  to  hold  the  child  once  more. 
She  had  begun  to  wish  she  knew  Edith  better, 
for  she  desired  to  love  her  as  Joe's  \vii.fe  ought 
to  be  loved  by  her. 

On  Saturday  morning  Edith  thought  it  best 


AT  BRADLEY.  193 

to  tell  her  that  Amos  was  coming  to  dinner. 
She  was  aware  that  they  had  not  spoken  to 
each  other  for  nearly  eight  years.  She  under- 
stood  the  stubborn  temper  of  both,  and  she  did 
not  suppose  Martha  would  wish  to  meet  her 
brother-in-law.  "  But  if  not,  Aunt  Martha,"  she 
said,  "  do  not  leave  your  rooms  ;  I  would  not  for 
the  world  have  you  suffer  any  annoyance  in  my 
house." 

"  That's  all  right,  Edith,"  she  replied  ;  "  but 
I  can  tell  you  one  thing.  I  niver  yet  run  away 
from  either  man  or  woman  body,  and  I'm  par- 
tic'larly  sure  that  I  won't  run  from  Amos  Braith- 
waite.  If  he  doesn't  like  to  be  in  t'  same  room 
wi'  me  he  can  just  tak'  himsen  further  off,  as 
soon  as  iver  he  chooses." 

"  I  dare  say  that  he  will  be  very  glad  to  meet 
you  again,  Aunt  Martha.  He  ought  to  be." 

"  Ay,  he  ought.  I  did  him  a  deal  o'  good 
for  many  a  year.  He  has  mebbe  found  it  out 
by  this  time.  And  he  hes  nothing  to  feel  hard 
at  me  for,  except  that  one  night  I  told  him  t' 
truth  about  himsen,  and  if  he  didn't  like  it  it 
was  nobody's  fault  but  his  awn.  He  had  no 
one  to  blame  but  Amos  Braithwaite,  if  t'  truth 
wasn't  varry  flattering." 


194  MASTER    O-F  HIS    FATE. 

So  on  Saturday  the  proud  old  lady  sat 
steadily  in  the  parlor  with  her  knitting,  her 
broad,  placid,  handsome  face  showing  not  a  trace 
of  any  thing  but  sincerity  and  content.  Amos 
came  bustling  into  the  room  in  his  usual  pom 
pous  fashion,  and  his  eyes  instantly  fell  upon 
Martha,  as  she  sat  by  the  open  window,  busy 
with  a  sock  of  pink  wool  for  little  Joe.  It  was 
like  a  vision  from  his  old  life.  In  a  moment 
he  remembered  all  the  years  in  which  she  had 
kept  Bevin  Hall  a  little  palace  of  sweet  clean 
liness  and  exquisite  comfort.  His  heart  went 
out  to  her,  but  he  only  said, 

"  Well,  I'm  sure  ;   is  that  thee,  Martha?" 

"  Ay,  it's  me,  Amos,  wi  a  difference  o'  eight 
years  fash  and  worry  and  ageing.  I'm  glad  to 
see  thee  looking  so  well  and  so  like  thy- 
sen." 

"  Is  ta  really?  Martha  Thrale,  when  is  ta 
coming  home?  Thou  ought  to  be  ashamed  o' 
thysen,  leaving  an  old  man  like  me  to  fettle  for 
himsen  a'  these  years." 

"  I  hevn't  done  a  thing  or  said  a  word  that 
I'm  shamed  for,  niver  in  my  whole  life,  Amos 
Braithwaite." 

"  I   sud  think  that  t'  Resurrection  Day  was 


AT  BRADLEY.  195 

here,  if  I  heard  thee  say  different.  It's  natural 
to  hear  thee  talking  like  that.  It  would  be  a 
strange  thing  to  hear  thee  say  as  thou  could  be 
in  the  wrong.  It  would  that.  But  I'll  tell  thee 
summat:  t'  rats,  and  t'  mice,  and  ivery  other 
kind  o'  vermin  that  thou  hates,  are  heving  a 
good  time  over  at  Bevin,  among  t'  velvet  chairs 
and  t'  hangings  and  t'  varry  best  carpets.  And 
that  owd  Tabby  Askweth  lies  broke  t'  last  bit 
o'  thy  sister  Ann's  best  china,  and  I  don't 
believe  there  is  an  ell  o'  ta  fine  table  damask 
left." 

"  Amos  Braithwaite  !  Such  carryings  on  ! 
It's  enough  to  make  any  body  cry  ;  Tabby  Ask 
weth  ought  to  be  in  Bevin  lock-up,  that  she 
ought." 

"  And  I  hevn't  t'  ways,  nor  t'  means,  to  ask 
my  awn  daughter-in-law  to  come  and  drink  a 
cup  o'  tea  wi'  me.  It's  a.  shame,  I  say." 

"It  is  thy  awn  fault." 

"And  I'd  like  to  see  my  awn  grandson, 
sometimes,  in  my  awn  house.  Thou  ought  to 
think  o'  these  things.  Come  home,  my  woman  ; 
I  wouldn't  be  so  stubborn  and  ill  to  move  for 
anything.  Look  at  me;  see  how  forgiving  I 
hev  been.  Why,  I  was  too  soft  even  to  tell 


I96  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

Joe's  wife  a  bit  o'  my  mind.  Thou'rt  worse 
than  I  am,  Martha." 

"  Does  ta  want  me  to  come  back  to  Bevin? 
Is  that  what  ta  means  ?" 

"  Ay,  I  want  thee  to  come  home." 

"  Then  I'll  come,  on  one  condition.  Thou 
must  ask  Joe  back.  I  left  when  Joe  left,  and 
I'm  none  comin'  back  till  ta  asks  Joe  back  wi' 
me." 

"  I'll  do  naught  o'  t'  sort.  He  can  come  if 
he  likes.  Edith  is  coming  once  a  week,  and  if 
a  man  can't  follow  his  wife,  I  count  nothing  of 
him  ;  he's  too  big  a  fool  to  ask.  When  will  ta 
come  home,  Martha  ?  " 

"  As  soon  as  I  hev  put  my  furniture  in  safe 
keeping." 

''Sell  it." 

"Not  I.  Thee  and  me  might  get  to  differing 
again,  and  I'm  not  goin'  to  put  mysen  out  of  a 
home.  I'd  be  too  much  i'  thy  power,  if  I  sold 
my  furniture." 

"  Thou  art  eat  up  wi'  pride,  but  I'll  set  thee 
an  example,  Martha.  I'll  show  thee  how  to  be 
generous  and  forgiving.  I'll  settle  .£200  a  year 
on  thee  for  life  ;  whether  ta  stays  wi'  me,  or 


AT  BRADLEY.  197 

leaves  me,  thou  shalt  hev  £200  a  year.  What 
does  ta  say  to  that,  now  ?  " 

"  I  niver  asked  thee  for  a  penny-piece,  Amos 
Braithwaite,  and  I  don't  know  as  thou  hest  any 
right  to  give  me  £200  a  year." 

"  Keep  thysen  cool,  Martha ;  I'm  not  offer 
ing  thee  any  charity.  Thou  earned  all  I  offer 
thee,  ay,  over  and  over.  I'm  nobbut  paying  a 
just  debt." 

"  If  thou  thinks  of  it  that  way,  pay  it.  But 
I'm  not  the  woman  to  take  any  mean  advan 
tage  over  thee.  I'm  more  likely  to  stay  wi' 
thee,  when  I  hev  t"  power  to  leave  thee,  than  I 
would  be  if  I  hadn't  a  penny." 

"When  will  ta  come  home  ?  " 

"  Next  Saturday  thou  wilt  find  me  there,  I'll 
warrant,  when  ta  comes  from  t'  mill." 

Then  Edith  came  in,  and  as  the  trio  stood 
together  admiring  little  Joe,  the  door  opened, 
and  Perkins  entered.  He  was  quite  taken 
down  by  the  presence  of  Amos  and  Martha, 
and  could  scarcely  manage  to  explain  that  he 
was  passing,  and  had  called  to  see  if  there  was 
any  thing  for  him  to  attend  to,  etc. 

Amos  watched  his  confusion  with  cynical 
pleasure.  "  Why,  whativer  is  t'  matter  wi' 


I98  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

thee,  Perkins?  Thou  isn't  thysen  at  all.  Thou 
art  blushing  like  a  hobbledehoy  !  Doesn't  t' 
company  here  suit  thee?  For  my  part  I'm 
varry  glad  to  see  thee.  I  have  summat  to  say 
to  thee  after  dinner." 

"  Dinner  is  served,  madam,"  said  a  servant. 

"  Then  come  thou  wi'  me,  Edith.  I  can 
trust  Joshua  Perkins  with  Martha  Thrale. 
He'll  hev  to  mind  his  P's  and  Q's  if  he  is  think 
ing  o'  cross-questioning  her.  I'm  glad  Martha 
is  here.  I  like  to  eat  my  dinner  without 
racking  my  brain  to  keep  upsides  wi'  a  clever 
owd  lawyer." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Braithwaite  !  Mr.  Braithwaite  ! 
You  must  hev  your  joke,  we  all  know  that." 
And  Perkins  tried  to  hide  his  astonishment 
and  annoyance  in  a  forced  laugh,  and  in  civil 
attentions  to  Miss  Thrale,  who,  however, 
received  them  in  an  unusually  silent  and 
haughty  manner. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

JOE    RISES   IN   ESTEEM. 

The  soul  gives  itself  strict  account  of  every  thing  J 
It  penetrates  itself  with  its  own  life. 

That  love  never  confers  happiness  on  others 
that  sacrifices  nothing  for  those  whom  it  loves. 

OW  then,   Perkins,   if  ta  hes    any  ques- 
tions  to  ask,  thou  may  git  all  ta  can 
out  o'  me." 

The  two  men  were  walking  and  smoking  in 
the  beautiful  alleys  of  the  rose  garden,  it  being 
a  theory  of  Edith's  that  in  some  way  tobacco 
was  favorable  to  the  health  of  her  favorite 
flower.  Two  world-worn  figures  they  looked, 
amid  the  unspeakable  freshness  and  loveliness 
which  surrounded  them  ;  but  Amos  was  not  in 
sensible  to  it.  He  loved  flowers,  he  loved  roses 
best  of  all  flowers,  and  as  he  invited  the  lawyer's 
examination,  he  stood  still  a  moment  before  a 
wonderful  white  moss  rose,  a  thing  so  purely, 


200  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

so  heavenly  sweet  and  perfect,  that  it  compelled 
the  eyes  to  pause  and  the  heart  to  worship. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Braithwaite — " 

"  Ay,  thou  hed  better  call  me  Mr.  Braith 
waite,  I  am  got  to  where  it's  t'  right  thing  to 
do.  A  man  wi'  t'  overcharge  o'  Bevin  and 
Bradley  on  his  mind,  deserves  a  bit  o'  respect,  I 
think." 

"  Did  I  understand  you  to  say  that  you  had 
the  charge  of  the  Bradley  estate,  sir  ?  " 

"I'm  not  going  to  mell  in  thy  business,  so 
thou  need  not  look  so  turkey-gobbler  like.  I'm 
taking  my  daughter's  place,  not  thine.  That  is, 
I'm  taking  Joe's  place  ;  and,  I  must  say,  not  a 
minute  before  t'  right  time.  There's  four  houses 
on  Kattal  Moor  unlet  for  two  years  ;  now  then, 
how  does  that  come  about  ?  " 

"  If  you  hev  any  right  to  ask — " 

"  To  be  sure  I  hev,  did  ta  iver  know  me 
bother  my  head  about  other  folks'  concerns? 
But  if  ta  wants  to,  thou  can  draw  me  up  a 
power  of  attorney." 

"  Then  I  answer  that  I  cannot  force  people 
to  rent  houses.  They  are  there,  if  they  want 
them." 

"  But  thou  could  do  summat  to  mak'  people 


JOE  RISES  IN  ESTEEM.  201 

want  them.  Tell  Darley  to  tak'  his  paint  pots 
there,  to-morrow,  and  hev  t'  garden  palings  put 
up,  and  t'  flower  beds  weeded,  and  t'  window 
glass  put  in ;  mak'  them  look  comfortable,  and 
they'll  rent ;  I'll  be  bound  they  will  !  " 
"  All  this  costs  money." 

"  I  should  say  it  did  ;  but  ta  must  put  money 
out  to  get  money  in.     Them  houses  standing 
empty  are  a  loss  of   £So  a  year.     Thou  hed 
better   put  out  £10  and  get  ^70  back.     But 
thou  art  so  used  to  getting  good  money  for 
talking  a  bit  that  it's  hard  to  get  t'  right  prin 
ciples  of  outlay  and  increase  into  thy  head — 
there's  more  o'  t'  same  kind  too.     That  mill  on 
Sorbey  beck  has  been  empty  for  five  years." 
"  I  hev  niver  hed  one  offer  for  it." 
"As  a  mill;  that's  likely  ;  but  I'll  tell  thee 
what !     T'  Wesleyan  Methodists  want  a  chapel 
at  Sorbey — I  know  they  do,  for  they  came  to 
me  for  a  subscription.     Offer  them  t'  building 
on  a  long  lease.     They'll  nobbut  hev  to  put  t' 
seats  in  and  paint  it  up  a  bit.     Give  'em  their 
own  terms,  if  they  are  any  way  near  t'  figure." 
"  That  is  a  good  idea,  Mr.  Braithwaite." 
"  Ay,  I  think  it  is.     I  mostly  know  what  I'm 
doing.     And,   I    don't    want    a   mill    there;    it 


2C2  MASTER    OF  HIS  FATE. 

wont  suit  my  plans.  If  they  say  t'  building  is 
too  big,  thou  may  tell  them  that  ta  knows 
there  will  be  plenty  o'  men  and  women  to 
crowd  it  before  varry  long." 

"  Whativer  does  ta  mean  ?  '' 

"  I  understand  my  awn  meaning,  which  is 
more  than  many  folks  do.  Now,  thet  is  all 
about  Bradley  at  this  time,  only  I'd  advise  thee 
to  keep  a  sharper  lookout  for  Bradley,  for  I'll 
tell  thee  one  thing,  I  sail  keep  a  varry  sharp 
lookout  for  thee." 

Perkins  laughed,  but  not  very  pleasantly. 
"  I  know  what  your  lookout  is,  Mr.  Braithwaite. 
I'm  not  a  bit  afraid  of  it.  What  is  all  this  I 
hear  about  Mr.  Joe  ?  " 

"  What  has  ta  heard  ?  " 

"  That  he  hed  deserted  his  wife  and  child.  I 
heard  also  that  you  hed  followed  him  to  Liver 
pool,  but  could  not  induce  him  to  come  home." 

"  Thou  hes  been  fooled  wi*  a  pack  o'  lies. 
Who  told  them  to  thee?" 

"I  am  not  at  liberty  to  name  names." 

"Ay,  but  ta  will  hev  to  name  names  to  me. 
We  aren't  going  one  step  further  till  ta  does." 
And  Amos  was  so  red  and  belligerent-looking 
that  Perkins  thought  it  wisest  to  answer: 


JOE  RISES  IN  ESTEEM.  203 

"  If  you  insist  on  knowing,  it  was  Tommy 
Arncliff  of  t'  Bell  Ringer's  Inn." 

"  I'll    sue    him    for   defamation  o'  my  son's 
character.     Thou  may  lay  t'  damages  at  £io,-\ 
ooo." 

"  Nonsense,  Braithwaite.  It  isn't  slander 
saying  what  you've  heard  to  your  lawyer.  I'm 
Arncliff's  lawyer.  I  could  not,  and  would  not, 
be  witness  against  him." 

"  Hes  ta  heard  any  one  else  say  such  things  ?  " 

"  I'm  not  varry  likely  to  tell  thee  now  what 
I  hev  heard.  But  it  is  easy  to  see  that  there  is 
something  more  than  usual  at  Bradley,  and  of 
course  people,  knowing  how  I  stand  to  Bradley, 
will  ask  me  questions.  I  think  it's  only  fair  that 
I  should  know  how  to  answer  them." 

"  Now  thou  talks  common  sense.  If  any 
one  asks  thee  where  Mr.  Joe  is,  tell  them  he  is 
with  his  godfather,  Samuel  Yorke  of  Spin 
ning-Jenny  street,  Manchester.  They'll  meb- 
be  ask,  too,  why  he  is  there,  and  ta  can  tell 
them  he  hes  gone  to  learn  Yorke's  business. 
Thou  can  add  thet  his  awn  family  approve  all 
he  hes  done,  and  thet  I  hev  promised  to  tak' 
his  place  as  far  as  I  can,  till  he  gets  through 
his  'prenticeship.  If  they  want  to  know  any 


204  MASTER   OF  HIS  PATE. 

more,  send  'em  to  me.  I'm  none  too  old  to 
thresh  a  few  ideas  into  their  bones,  that  won't 
go  in  through  their  ears.  You  hev  to  lick 
wisdom  into  some  folks,  there's  no  other 
way." 

"  Mrs.  Braithwaite,  at  any  rate,  seems  quite 
happy  and  satisfied." 

"  Mrs.  Braithwaite  is  an  extraordinary 
woman,  sir.  How  owd  Bradley  iver  came  to 
have  such  a  daughter  caps  me.  She  must  hev 
taken  after  t'  mother.  And  Mrs.  Braithwaite 
is  quite  set  up  with  her  husband's  energy,  and 
his  determination  to  go  in  for  making  money." 

"Still,  you  can't  help  people  wondering  why 
Mr.  Joe  did  not  go  to  his  own  father,  if  he 
wanted  to  be  a  spinner." 

"  Nobody  can  help  being  born  meddlers  and 
foolish  busybodies.  Does  ta  think  I  want 
another  woolen  mill  so  near  my  own  ?  Does 
ta  think  I  want  my  son  for  a  business  rival  ? 
Does  ta  think  I  want  to  hear  old  customers 
say,  '  If  ta  can't  let  me  hev  this  yarn  at  such  a 
figure,  I  sail  go  to  thy  son  for  it  ?  '  But  a  cot 
ton  mill  !  That  is  thread  of  a  different  color. 
I'd  like  to  hev  a  cotton  mill  about  as  far  off  as 
Bradley.  It  won't  do  me  a  mite  o'  harm.  It 


JOE   RISES  IN  ESTEEM.  205 

be  rather  a  good  thing  for  my  property  ; 
it'll  raise  t'  price  of  it,  and  I  hev,  as  ta  knows, 
a  goodish  bit  o'  property  in  that  direction." 

"  Mr  Braithwaite,  give  me  your  hand.  You 
are  the  most  far-seeing  and  sensible  man  I  hap 
pen  to  hev  among  my  clients  and  acquaint 
ances.  I  respect  you,  sir." 

"  I  thought  ta  would  choose  to  find  out  t' 
truth  about  me,  someday  or  other.  Now 
we'll  walk  a  bit  down  t'  park.  I  want  to  hev 
a  talk  wi'  thee  about  it."  Rather  reluctantly 
Perkins  acquiesced.  He  did  not  relish  this 
interference,  but  if  Amos  was  acting  for  the 
lady  of  the  manor  he  was  in  no  way  over-step 
ping  his  power ;  and  it  became  Perkins'  duty 
to  listen  to  his  instructions.  Still,  Amos  was 
undoubtedly  irritating.  He  was  not  conscious 
of  his  authoritative  air,  nor  of  that  excessive 
faithfulness  to  Edith's  interests  which  was 
natural  to  the  newness  of  his  relationship  to 
her  ;  but  Perkins  was  conscious  of  it.  In  his 
heart  he  was  calling  him  very  uncompliment 
ary  things  as  they  returned  from  their  walk. 

It  was  then  twilight,  and  they  met  Edith  in 
the  hall  as  they  entered  it. 

"  Go  into    the    parlor,     Mr.    Perkins,"    she 


206  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

said  ;  "  we  shall  have  tea  directly  ;  and, 
Father,  you  must  please  come  with  me  a  few 
minutes." 

She  put  her  arm  through  that  of  Amos 
and  took  him  with  her  up  the  stairway.  Per 
kins  stood  a  moment,  watching  with  amaze 
ment  and  some  scorn,  the  old  man's  excessive 
politeness,  and  the  air  of  pride  and  satisfaction 
which  he  unconsciously  betrayed.  Then  he 
sat  down  in  the  parlor,  and  watched  the  foot 
man  bring  in  some  exquisite  tea-cups  of  royal 
Worcester  upon  a  silver  salver.  He  reflected, 
that  though  he  had  frequently  taken  tea  at 
Bradley,  the  royal  Worcester  had  never  been 
brought  out  in  his  honor.  The  circumstance, 
slight  as  it  was,  gave  him  the  key  of  the  posi 
tion.  It  was  evident  Amos  had  come  to  Brad 
ley  as  a  favored  ruler,  and  that  it  would  be  to 
his  interest  to  indorse  all  that  Amos  desired. 
Since  he  could  not  supersede  him,  the  next 
best  move  was  to  work  with  him. 

In  the  mean  time  Edith  had  taken  Amos  to  a 
large,  lovely  room,  profusely  ornamented,  and 
draped  with  pale  pink.  In  the  very  center  of 
it  stood  a  little  cot,  a  drift  of  snowy  linen  and 
lace,  and  fast  asleep  within  it  the  loveliest  of 


JOE   RISES  IN  ESTEEM.  207 

babies.  He  had  had  his  bath,  and  been  dressed 
in  fresh  lawn,  and  then  gone  to  rest  so  per 
fectly  happy  that  he  diffused  around  him  a 
balmy  feeling  of  blissful  and  beautiful  re 
pose. 

"  Look  at  little  Joe,  father  !  " 

"  My  word  !     Hey,  Edith,  he  is  a  beauty  !  " 

And  the  proud  mother,  and  equally  proud 
grandfather,  stood  silent  a  few  minutes  before 
the  small  monarch,  and  then  tip-toed  themselves 
gently  out  of  his  presence.  The  innocent  babe, 
the  lovely  mother,  the  shrewd,  world-worn  old 
man — what  telling  contrasts  they  unconsciously 
made  !  Nor  were  they  without  some  influence, 
upon  each  other,  for  as  they  came  quietly  down 
stairs  Edith  slipped  her  hand  into  her  father's 
hand,  and  thus,  to  Perkins'  wonderment,  they 
entered  the  room  together. 

After  tea,  Perkins  rose  to  depart.  "  Take  a 
seat  in  my  gig,"  said  Amos.  "  We'll  tie  thy 
horse  behind  it." 

"  Father,  you  are  surely  not  going  to  Bevin 
to-night  ?  " 

"Why,  yes,  my  lass.  I  niver  thought  of  any 
other  thing  but  going  back  to-night." 

"  But  I  must  go  to  church  to-morrow ;  I  was 


208  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

not  there  last  Sunday,  and  I  really  can  not 
go  unless  you  go  with  me." 

"  Oh,  but  ta  knows,  I  niver  go  to  church.  I 
hev  got  out  of  t'  way  of  such  doings.  Aunt 
Martha  will  go  wi'  thee,  I'll  warrant." 

"I  shall  go  to  t'  Wesleyan  Chapel,  Amos.  It 
is  thy  place  to  go  wi'  Edith.  I  don't  see  how 
ta  can  get  off  going." 

Perkins  was  listening  with  an  amused  face  to 
this  discussion,  and  his  smile  decided  Amos. 
''Very  well,"  he  answered.  "I'll  go;  I'm  t' 
right  person  to  go,  I  dare  say,  and  there's  varry 
few  that  wouldn't  like  to  be  in  my  place,  I'm 
sure." 

So  Perkins  rode  home  alone,  and  the  next 
morning  Amos  escorted  his  daughter-in-law  to 
Bradley  Church.  They  made  a  little  sensation 
when  they  entered,  for  Amos  Braithwaite  was 
a  well-known  man,  even  far  beyond  Bradley. 
And  he  was,  also,  a  much  respected  man.  His 
public  and  commercial  character  stood  very 
high,  and  his  domestic  and  religious  character 
was  so  comfortably  negative  that  no  one  fell 
compelled  to  regard  him  through  it. 

Perhaps  the  service  did  not  do  him  much 
good,  as  it  only  intensified  his  complacent  sat- 


JOE  RISES  IN  ESTEEM.  209 

isfaction  with  himself  ;  but  he  paid  scrupulous 
attention  to  it,  and  he  left  a  golden  token  of 
his  presence  in  the  offertory  plate,  which  was 
gratifying  to  the  church-wardens.  As  he  was 
coming  out  of  church,  while  waiting  in  the 
crowded  porch  for  the  Bradley  carriage,  he  had 
one  of  those  small  social  triumphs  to  which  he 
was  keenly  sensitive.  The  Hon.  Mr.  Latrays, 
M.  P.,  for  whose  election  Amos  had  done  a 
great  deal,  came  forward  and  accosted  him 
with  much  apparent  pleasure.  Edith  asked 
the  stranger  to  dinner,  and  the  invitation  was 
at  once  accepted  ;  and  it  is  certain  that  things 
of  far  greater  importance  would  not  have 
given  Amos  half  the  pleasure  that  driving 
away  with  the  M.  P.  by  his  side  did. 

It  was  a  Sunday  full  of  satisfaction  to  him. 
Mr.  Latrays  remained  all  night  at  Bradley,  and 
on  Monday  morning  went  back  to  Bevin  with 
Amos,  in  order  to  examine  some  improvements 
in  the  machinery  of  Bevin  mill.  They  had 
had  long  and  delightful  discussions  on  all  the 
subjects  so  perennially  interesting  to  men  of 
the  world.  Amos  had  done  himself  justice, 
and  been  complimented  on  his  daughter  and 
grandson,  and  almost  extravagantly  so  upon 


210  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

the  extraordinary  self-denial  of  his  energetic 
son. 

"  How  few  men  in  England,  owning  a  place 
like  this,"  said  Mr.  Latrays,  with  a  grand  sweep 
of  his  white  hand — "  how  few  would  ever  have 
thought  of  learning  the  working-man's  needs 
and  feelings  by  entering  personally  into  his 
labors  and  limitations.  Your  son  will  make 
an  irresistible  Radical  candidate,  sir,  I  assure 
you." 

This  was  a  view  of  Joe's  conduct  which  had 
never  before  struck  his  father,  but  he  immedi 
ately  recognized  its  importance,  though  he 
contented  himself  with  looking  wise  and  sym 
pathetic,  and  saying  nothing.  For  he  remem 
bered  that  Perkins  had  once  spoken  of  Joe 
running  on  the  Radical  side  of  politics,  and  he 
admitted  to  himself  that  Perkins  was  a  far- 
seeing  man,  with  a  faculty  of  allying  himself 
with  good  fortune,  and  drifting  towards  suc 
cessful  sides. 

Aunt  Martha's  departure  followed  close  on 
that  of  Amos.  She  had  determined  to  sell  her 
furniture  and  go  back  to  Bevin  Hall.  "  I  lived 
with  him  twenty  years,  and  I  can  live  with  him 
twenty  more,"  she  said  to  Edith.  "  Besides,  I 


JOE  RISES  IN  ESTEEM.  211 

hev  thee  to  help  me,  now,  and  when  thou  says 
yes  he  seems  to  hev  forgotten  how  to  say  no, 
though  contradiction  used  to  be  natural  as 
breathing  to  him." 

"And  you  will  not  be  so  lonely,  Aunt 
Martha,  for  little  Joe  and  I  will  come  every 
week  to  see  you  ;  and  also  -you  will  be  among 
all  your  old  acquaintances  at  Market-Bevin." 

"  I  have  been  a  bit  lonely,  sometimes,"  said 
Martha. 

"  And  in  any  dispute  I  shall  always  agree 
with  you.  When  there  are  two  women  against 
one  man,  he  can't  impose  very  much  on  either 
of  them." 

"  As  to  that,  it's  mebbe  better  to  hev  one 
man  ordering  around  than  to  hev  to  fight  for 
your  own  with  ivery  penny  tradesman  you  deal 
wi'.  I  hev  hed  a  hard  time  wi'  butchers,  and 
grocers,  and  milkmen.  At  Bevin  they  know 
they'll  hev  to  settle  wi'  Amos,  and  they're  par 
ticular  both  as  to  quality  and  quantity.  Bless 
your  heart,  Edith,  there's  no  one  in  this  world 
more  to  be  pitied  than  a  lone  woman  trying 
to  mak'  her  awn  living.  If  she's  clever,  all  the 
fools  hate  her  ;  if  she  isn't  clever,  then  they 
cheat  her.  I've  seen  worse  folks  than  Amos 


212  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

Braithwaite  since  I  began  to  tak'  lodgers,  and 
I'm  not  sorry  to  be  going  back  to  Bevin." 

"  When  may  I  come  and  see  you  there?  " 

"  I  sud  think  a  week  from  next  Wednesday, 
I  sail  hev  some  comfartable  place  for  thee." 

But  Martha  found  things  much  worse  than 
she  had  expected.  The  whole  house  had  to  be 
refurnished,  and  she  was  astonished  to  find 
that  Amos  took  quite  eagerly  to  the  idea.  He 
took  pleasant  counsel  with  the  two  women 
about  it,  and  let  Edith  drive  him  here  and 
there  in  search  of  papers,  and  damasks,  and 
new  ornaments.  In  a  few  weeks  the  old  house 
was  thoroughly  renovated  and  refurnished, 
and  Edith  could  go  there  and  drink  tea  in  as 
handsome  a  parlor  and  out  of  as  exquisite 
china  as  at  Bradley.  And  it  was  wonderful 
how  easily  and  naturally  one  improvement 
brought  on  another,  until  the  garden,  the 
stables,  and  even  the  wardrobe  of  Amos, 
showed  the  feminine  influence  to  which  he  had 
been  gradually  subjected. 

In  the  same  interval,  Joe  and  Edith  were 
getting  into  closer  sympathy  with  each  other 
than  they  had  ever  before  known.  Long,  lov 
ing  letters,  in  which  each  told  the  other,  not 


JOE  RISES  IN  ESTEEM.  213 

only  the  minutest  incidents  of  their  daily  lives, 
but  also  their  struggles  with  discouragements, 
weariness,  their  longings,  resolves,  suc 
cesses  and  failures;  led  them  gradually  to 
understand  how  much  of  nobility  there  had 
been  in  each  heart,  unguessed  by  the  other. 
Every  such  letter  was  a  link  of  the  chain  bind 
ing  them  more  closely  together.  They  grew 
familiar  with  each  other,  accustomed  to  saying 
affectionate  words,  not  ashamed  to  confess  how 
sadly  they  had  undervalued  their  past,  how 
eagerly  they  looked  forward  to  their  future. 
Joe  was  as  anxious  for  his  letters  as  the  most 
eager  lover,  and  though  Samuel  Yorke  had 
been  quite  right  in  saying  that  Joe  would 
be  too  tired  to  want  any  thing  but  his  bed 
at  night,  he  nevertheless  found  writing  to  his 
wife  as  refreshing  as  sleep. 

After  a  while,  Edith  began  to  read  portions 
of  Joe's  letters,  describing  his  life  and  work, 
to  Amos  as  he  smoked  his  pipe  by  the  parlor 
fire,  or  strolled  with  her  in  the  garden  after 
dinner.  They  were  certainly  very  fine  letters, 
and  both  the  wife  and  father  grew  to  wonder 
fully  respect  the  writer.  Edith  always  praised 
them  extravagantly  ;  Amos  said  very  little,  but 


214  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

as  he  stroked  his  chin  complacently  he  con 
gratulated  himself  upon  having  such  a  remark 
ably  clever  son. 

One  day,  Joe  had  been  sent  to  Liverpool  to 
buy  cotton.  He  had  gone  frequently  with  his 
godfather,  but  this  time  he  had  been  trusted  to 
use  his  own  judgment.  The  result  had  been 
very  satisfactory  ;  and  Joe's  letter  described  so 
vividly  the  cotton  exchange,  with  its  crowd  of 
eager  merchants  and  cautious  buyers,  that 
Edith  could  not  wait  for  her  usual  visit.  She 
ordered  her  carriage  and  went  at  once  to  Bevin 
Hall. 

It  was  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  when  she 
got  there,  and  Amos  was  at  the  mill.  But 
there  was  Martha,  always  ready  to  hear  and  to 
believe  any  wonderful  thing  of  Joe.  And 
baby's  ailments  and  baby's  intelligence  had  to 
be  discussed  anew,  and  some  newly  furnished 
spare  bed-rooms  to  be  admired,  and  thus  the 
time  passed  very  pleasantly  until  Amos  came 
home. 

Amos  was  much  impressed  by  the  letter,  for 
he  knew,  if  Yorke  trusted  Joe  to  buy  cotton, 
he  had  great  reliance  on  his  abilities,  and  the 
witty,  pithy  descriptions  of  life  and  character 


JOE  RISES  IN  ESTEEM.  215 

interested  him  very  much.  When  Edith  had 
left,  he  remained  a  long  time  silent,  occasion 
ally  lifting  his  eyes  to  Martha,  who  was  busy 
hemming  some  of  the  fine  damask  just  bought. 
Finally,  he  took  his  pipe  from  his  mouth,  and 
said  : 

"  Martha,  we  hev  been  a  bit  in  t'  dark  about 
Joe.  He  seems  to  be  a  varry  unusual  young 
man." 

"  Speak  for  thysen,  Amos.  I  allays  said  Joe 
was  a  varry  unusual  young  man.  If  he  sud  go 
to  Parliament  and  sit  at  t'  queen's  right  hand, 
I  sud  not  feel  a  bit  of  surprise  at  it." 

"  Joe  tak's  after  me  a  good  deal.  I  used  to 
hev  just  such  ideas  about  men  and  things  as  he 
hes." 

"  Thee  !  " 

"  To  be  sure  I  lied.  But  I  niver  hed  any 
education,  and  I  couldn't  write  them  down  on 
paper,  and  I  niver  hed  any  one  to  talk  to." 

"  Tell  the  truth,  Amos.  Thou  wert  far  too 
busy  making  money  to  either  write  or  talk  ; 
and  if  such  thoughts  iver  did  come  into  thy 
head,  thou  sent  them  packing  to  the  tune  of 
£.  s.  d.  I'll  warrant  thou  did." 

"I  say  Joe  takes  after  me    Martha." 


216  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

"  Joe  takes  after  his  mother.  He's  got  all 
t*  talents  he  has  from  her." 

"  I  say  Joe  takes  after  me." 

"  When  he  settles  down  to  money-making, 
he  will  take  after  thee  ;  not  until  then,  Amos." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

CALUMNY. 

*f  There's  noan  sa  blind  but  they  can  see 

Sum  fawts  i'  other  men  ; 
I've  sometimes  met  wi'  folk  'at  thought 
They  saw  sum  i'  theirsen." 

"  Be  thou  chaste  as  ice,  as  pure  as  snow, 
Thou  shall  not  escape  calumny." 

/^CCUPATION  is  the  best  armor  of  the 
\J  soul,  and  these  affairs  had  kept  Edith  busy 
during  the  first  weeks  of  her  separation  from 
Joe.  At  the  very  time  when  that  fateful  jour 
ney  to  Manchester  took  place,  she  had  been 
trying  to  decide  upon  some  plan  for  the  sum 
mer.  Joe  had  suggested  Switzerland,  and  she 
had  inclined  to  Scarborough.  "  We  cannot  go 
with  less  than  three  servants,"  she  said,  "  and 
a  baby  and  three  servants  in  Switzerland 
will  cost  a  great  deal ;  besides,  I  think  baby 
wants  sea  air."  Joe  had  made  no  objections, 
and  he  had  fully  expected  to  share  the  sum. 
mer's  toilsome  search  after  pleasure. 


218  MASTER   OF  -HIS  FATE. 

For  though  the  Manchester  scheme  was  in 
his  mind,  he  had  no  idea  of  bringing  it  so 
suddenly  and  sharply  into  form  and  purpose  ; 
no  idea  that  his  plans  were  to  finally  determine 
those  of  his  wife.  But  the  first  decision  Edith 
came  to,  when  she  \vas  left  to  her  own  decis 
ions,  was,  that  she  must  remain  in  her  home. 
To  wander  about  the  continent  without  Joe 
was  impossible,  and  she  had  no  mind  to  brave 
the  shrugs  and  suppositions  and  suspicions  of 
a  fashionable  watering-place.  Under  her  own 
roof,  with  such  protection  as  her  husband's 
relatives  could  give  her,  she  felt  sure  no  one 
would  dare  to  interfere  in  her  personal  affairs 
or  darken  her  good  name. 

Her  very  position  made  her  fearless  of  offence 
on  this  ground.  Over  her  manor,  her  sway  was 
in  a  measure  absolute.  No  one  had  ever  pre 
sumed  to  discuss  her  doings.  Even  her  mar 
riage  had  provoked  no  adverse  criticisms.  She 
could  scarcely  imagine  people  interfering  in 
her  private  affairs,  much  less  making  her  in  any 
way  conscious  that  they  had  been  guilty  of 
such  presumption. 

And,  in  another  way,  Amos  was  quite  as 
proud  and  comfortable.  It  was  a  well  under- 


CALUMNY.  219 

stood  thing  in  his  circle  that  those  who  med 
dled  with  Amos  Braithwaite  would  be  apt  to 
get  more  than  they  looked  for.  Amos  never 
forgave  such  interferences,  and  he  had  ar 
rived  at  a  position  which  generally  enabled 
him  to  make  prompt  and  severe  reprisals.  If 
Luke  Bradley  had  been  alive  in  those  days,  he 
would  have  found  a  quarrel  with  Amos  Braith 
waite  a  very  serious  matter.  So  Amos,  during 
these  summer  months,  had  gone  on  re-furnish 
ing  his  house,  and  devoting  all  his  spare  hours 
to  his  daughter-in-law,  without  any  idea  that 
people  were  expressing  themselves  in  no  very 
flattering  terms  concerning  them. 

True,  Perkins  had  told  him  what  Arncliff 
had  said,  and  even  intimated  that  others  had 
ventured  on  similar  opinions  ;  but  Amos  had 
understood  that  all  such  adverse  criticism  re 
ferred  to  Joe ;  and  he  was  not  very  sure  but 
Joe  deserved  it  ;  though  he  always  concluded 
such  a  private  admission  with  the  muttered 
threat — "  Let  me  hear  tell  o'  them  saying 
aught  against  Joe.  My  word  !  but  I'll  mak' 
'em  sorry  for  it." 

However,  when  the  summer  was  over,  when 
the  rector  and  his  wife  returned  from  Norway, 


220  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

and  Lady  Wilson  from  the  Rhine,  and  Lady 
Charlton  from  the  Scotch  Highlands,  and  other 
lesser  social  lights  from  the  English  watering 
places,  it  was  not  long  before  Edith  was  com 
pelled  to  notice  how  far  she  had  fallen  in  the 
sight  of  such  exclusives.  She  had  never  been 
a  popular  woman,  most  of  her  social  equals  had 
little  scores  against  her,  and  they  did  not  think 
it  unpleasant  to  have  such  a  good  excuse  for 
settling  them.  How  skilful  women  are  in 
such  retaliations  most  people  have  had  oppor 
tunities  to  discover. 

And,  as  it  happened,  the  first  Sunday  when 
Edith  met  all  these  adverse  critics  in  church, 
was  just  the  very  first  Sunday  Amos  had  been 
prevented  from  accompanying  her.  She  had 
become  by  this  time  so  accustomed  to  Joe's 
absence  that  it  had  ceased  to  be  a  matter  of 
consideration  with  her  how  it  affected  others 
than  herself.  She  had  not  even  now  the  slight 
est  objection  to  appear  in  her  pew  alone.  She 
was  perfectly  satisfied  with  the  position  and 
prospects  of  her  affairs,  and  she  had  quite  for 
gotten,  or  quite  ignored,  the  fact  that  society 
considered  she  owed  some  explanation,  per 
haps  even  some  apology  to  it,  for  circum- 


CALUMNY.  221 

stances  so  unusual.  As  soon  as  she  entered 
church  that  Sabbath  morning,  she  was  aware 
of  an  antagonistic  feeling  ;  for  spiteful  and  con 
temptuous  women  contrive  to  charge  the  very 
atmosphere  with  their  ill-will  ;  though  how 
they  do  so  is  one  of  those  spiritual  miracles 
science  is  not  yet  able  to  explain.  Yet,  as  she 
walked  with  a  certain  majesty  of  carriage  up 
the  aisle,  she  felt  the  evil  influence  rained  upon 
her  from  eyes  full  of  dislike  and  contempt,  and 
through  the  solemn  litany  she  was  aware  that 
the  women  so  glibly  calling  themselves  miser 
able  sinners  were  thinking  of  her  as  the  self- 
complacent  Pharisee  thought  of  the  publican. 
Coming  out  of  church,  the  rector's  wife  was 
the  first  of  her  own  set  whom  she  encountered. 
She  was  an  admirable  woman,  of  fine  family 
and  exceedingly  proper  opinions  ;  too  just  to 
altogether  condemn  Edith  without  adequate 
hearing  ;  too  polite  to  positively  snub  a  person 
who  met  her  with  congratulations  and  pleasant 
hopes.  But  she  dropped  her  short  sentence  as 
if  each  word  had  been  iced,  and  turned  away 
with  an  "excuse  me,"  which  palpably  meant, 
"  I  consider  your  attentions  something  very 
like  an  impertinence." 


222  MASTER    OF  HIS  FATS. 

Many  eyes  had  watched  this  interview.  It 
was  rigidly  copied  by  some,  while  others  took 
it  as  a  license  for  still  more  marked  disappro 
val,  so  that  the  aisle  and  porch  of  Bradley 
Church  was  a  place  of  intolerable  humiliation 
to  Edith  that  day. 

"  Oh,  Joe,  Joe  !  "  she  cried  in  the  solitude  to 
which  her  wounded  feelings  drove  her, — "  Oh, 
Joe,  Joe,  if  you  had  been  here !  " 

For  long  it  was  all  she  could  say,  all  she 
could  think  of,  if  only  Joe  had  been  there. 
And  it  is  in  precisely  such  trials  as  these  that 
women  suffer  without  help.  Even  very  good 
women,  socially  wronged  and  humiliated,  do 
not  feel  as  if  they  have  any  right  to  carry  such 
troubles  to  the  ear  of  God  Almighty.  A  sort 
of  false  shame  holds  them  back.  "  How  can 

God  care  whether  Mrs.  A or  Lady  B 

speaks  to  me  or  not  ?  "  If  Edith  had  put  her 
thoughts  into  words,  they  would  have  been  on 
that  wise. 

But  God  does  care.  No  matter  how  small 
the  thorn  that  hurts  the  feet  of  His  child,  He 
cares  about  the  wound.  He  knows  that  it  is 
pfeciscly  these  small  thorns  that  cause  the  bit 
terest,  often  the  most  depressing,  suffering. 


CALUMNY.  223 

They  fret,  and  rankle,  and  fester,  and,  perhaps 
without  doing  vital  harm,  how  they  can  worry 
and  annoy  !  If  there  is  a  positive  wrong,  there 
is  the  law  for  redress  ;  but  the  glance,  of  the 
half-shut  eye,  the  withdrawn  garment,  the 
withheld  hand,  what  legal  skill  can  punish 
them  ?  A  coat  of  mail  may  defy  the  lance,  but 
what  armor  is  there  against  a  thorn  ?  " 

So  Edith  chafed  and  suffered  all  that  day,, 
as  she  had  never  suffered  in  her  life  before. 
Yet,  though  she  wrote  a  long  letter  to  Joe,  she 
had  the  wisdom  and  patience  to  say  nothing  of 
her  trouble.  Her  heart  ached  for  his  love  and 
his  protection,  but  why  should  she  ask  him  to 
leave  plans  and  projects  for  their  future  which 
were  full  of  profit  and  pleasure  ?  Was  it  worth 
while  trying  to  win  the  half-approval  of  people, 
evidently  so  ready  and  so  pleased  to  condemn 
her  ?  At  least,  they  might  have  waited  for  her 
explanation.  Then  she  grew  angry,  and  asked 
herself  why  she  should  condescend  to  explain 
matters  at  all  to  her  neighbors.  They  had  noth 
ing  to  do  with  her.  She  asked  nothing  from 
them.  She  would  not  trouble  herself,  and 
certainly  she  would  not  trouble  Joe  about  their 
liking  or  their  disliking. 


*24  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

Still,  she  did  not  sleep  at  all  that  night; 
and  the  whispering  of  evil  thoughts  about  her 
made  her  ears  tingle  and  her  heart  ache.  For 
she  saw  the  scornful  faces  and  heard  the  cruel 
xvords  that  were  beyond  bodily  sight  and  hear 
ing.  Something  far  more  intangible  than  a 
bird  of  the  air  carries  such  intelligence,  and 
sitting  alone  in  her  room  that  Sabbath  Edith 
knew,  as  certainly  as  if  she  had  been  actually 
present,  how  her  name  and  her  affairs  were 
thrown  from  one  spiteful  mouth  to  another. 

It  was  a  dreary  day,  also,  one  of  those  wet 
days  which  at  the  end  of  September  are  so  un 
speakably  dreary.  The  servants  who  had  been 
going  out  were  disappointed,  and  they  con 
trived  to  infuse  some  of  their  own  discontent 
through  all  the  house.  In  the  evening  there 
was  a  quarrel  in  the  kitchen,  which  the  butler 
had  to  call  Edith  to  settle.  Little  Joe's  nurse 
was  crying  with  her  share  of  it,  and  the  child 
himself,  missing  some  element  of  his  usual  sat 
isfaction,  cried  a  good  deal  also. 

"  What  a  perfectly  wretched  day  it  has 
been  !  "  said  Edith,  as  she  at  length  recognized 
the  fact  that  the  whole  cross,  weary  house 
hold  had  gone  to  sleep.  "  To-morrow  morn- 


CALUMNY.  225 

ing,  wet  or  fine,  I  shall  go  and  tell  father  every 
thing.  There  is  one  comfort  about  him  ;  he 
always  knows  what  to  do,  and  he  is  not  afraid 
to  do  it." 

The  next  morning  was  bright  and  lovely, 
with  just  a  suspicion  of  frost  in  the  air.  Edith 
had  partially  recovered  her  mental  strength  and 
tone  ;  and  her  rich  and  careful  toilet  was  in 
sympathy  with  the  mood  of  self-assertion  which 
had  followed  her  collapse  of  the  previous  day. 
For  somehow  the  flowing  silk  and  the  long  vel 
vet  mantle  seemed  but  the  materialization  of 
the  proud  and  resentful  thoughts  which  made 
her  carry  herself  with  a  haughty  and  almost 
defiant  air. 

When  she  arrived  at  Bevin  Hall  it  was  about 
noon.  Since  Martha's  return  there,  Amos  had 
gone  back  to  his  custom  of  having  his  dinner 
at  that  old-fashioned  hour.  "  I  had  my  dinner 
at  twelve  o'clock  for  fifty  years,  Martha,"  he 
said,  "  and  it's  nobbut  natural  1  sud  like  it 
best."  And  as  the  arrangement  permitted 
Martha  to  have  the  main  household  duties  fin 
ished  early  in  the  day,  Amos  found  his  noon 
dinner  gave  general  satisfaction. 

A  few  minutes  after  Edith's  arrival,  he  came 


226  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

in  dusty  and  hungry,  and  in  one  of  his  Grossest 
moods. 

"  Oh,"  said  Edith,  rising  up  impetuously,  "  I 
am  so  glad  to  see  you,  father." 

"Happen  ta  is,  but,  to  tell  t'  truth,  I'm  none 
so  glad  to  see  thee  at  this  time  of  t'  day.  My 
mind  is  full  o'  yarns  and  Israel  Sutcliffe.  Sut- 
cliffe  has  been  up  to  meanness,  and  I'll  hev  to 
teach  him  that  honesty  is  t'  best  policy,  even 
if  a  man  thinks  of  it  as  low  down  as  that." 

"  I  am  sorry  you  are  busy,  for  I  am  in  trou 
ble,  and  I  counted  on  your  help." 

"  Why,  then,  folks  that  count  on  me  aren't 
apt  to  find  me  worth  naught.  Whativer 
trouble  is  ta  in  now?  Joe  and  thee  again?" 

"  Father  !     Joe  never  gave  me  any  trouble." 

"  Oh,  he  didn't  !  Then  I'm  far  mistaken.  I 
might  hev  known,  though,  thou  would  go  back 
on  me.  That's  what  folks  get,  and  deserve  to 
get,  who  meddle  with  man  and  wife.  Who's 
troubling  thee,  then  ?  Perkins,  I'll  be  bound. 
If  it's  him,  he'd  better  take  care  ;  I'd  like  a 
fight  wi'  him,  oncommon  well." 

"  It  is  not  Perkins,  father.  It  is  the  rector's 
wife,  and  Lady  Wilson,  and  Lady  Charlton, 
and  Mrs.  Lumley,  and  Mrs.  Pennington — 


CALUMNY.  227 

"Will  ta  be  quiet  ?  What  am  I  to  do  be. 
twcen  thee  and  a  lot  o'  women  ?  1  know  a 
deal  better  than  to  touch  a  job  o'  that  kind." 

"  But  you  must  make  them  behave  them 
selves,  father." 

Then  Amos  laughed  with  a  heartiness  that 
finally  made  both  Martha  and  Edith  join  him. 
"  Mak'  t'  rector's  wife,  and  Sir  Thomas  Wil 
son's  wife,  and  Major  Pennington's  wife,  and 
Squire  Lumley's  wife  behave  themselves ! 
Why,  my  lass,  I  niver  managed  to  mak'  my  own 
wife  do  as  I  wanted  her  to  do,  and — " 

"  Thou  had  better  say  nothin'  about  my  sis 
ter  Ann,  Amos." 

"  And  how  does  ta  think  I  can  manage  other 
men's  wives?  Thet  is  a  bit  o'  wool  above  my 
spinning,  Edith,  or  mebbe  I'd  like  to  try  it," 

"  Listen,  father."  Then  she  described  to 
him,  as  well  as  she  could,  the  ordeal  through 
which  she  had  been  made  to  pass  on  the  pre 
vious  day;  and  soon  she  saw  from  the  gather 
ing  color  in  his  face,  and  the  quick,  passionate 
flashes  in  his  eyes,  that  he  was  catching  fire  at 
her  anger. 

He  was  eating  his  dinner  as  he  listened,  a 
process  usually  thought  to  induce  kindly  feel- 


228  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

ing;  but  Amos  rose  from  the  table  full  of  wrath. 
And  when  Edith  added,  with  a  look  of  reproach 
ful  love,  "  You  see,  father,  it  is  partly  your 
fault,  because  if  you  had  been  with  me  no  one 
would  have  dared  even  an  insulting  glance — " 
Amos  was  deeply  roused. 

"  My  lass,"  he  answered,  "  I'm  sorry  I  didn't 
let  ivery  thing  go,  and  tak'  thee  to  church,  as 
I  sud  hev  done.  And  thou  art  right  ;  I'll  tak' 
varry  good  care  neither  man  nor  woman  in 
sults  thee  as  long  as  I  hev  t'  charge  in  Joe's 
place.  Go  thy  ways  home,  and  do  just  as  thou 
hes  allays  done  ;  and  go  wheriver  ta  likes  to  go, 
and  leave  t'  rest  to  me.  My  word  !  If  they 
want  to  talk  badly  about  thee,  they'll  hev  to 
pay  a  high  figure  for  it — thet  is,  their  husbands 
will,  for  I'll  tak'  it  out  o'  them  ivery  way.  I'll 
warrant  I  can  mak'  both  a  horse-whip  and  a 
lawyer's  bill  varry  unpleasant  things." 

Then  he  went  off  to  his  mill  again,  and  the 
man  who  was  wanting  time  on  his  yarns,  and 
the  hands  whose  pieces  had  a  flaw  in  them,  had 
a  bad  settlement  that  afternoon  with  Amos. 

That  night  he  was  unusually  silent  over  his 
pipe,  but  Martha  let  him  alone.  She  knew 
that  sooner  or  later  he  would  seek  her  advice. 


CALUMNY.  229 

About  eight  o'clock  he  sent  a  note  to  Perkins, 
and  then  he  turned  to  her  and  said, 

"  Martha,  thou  ought  to  know  what  mak'  of 
stuff  is  in  women.  What  does  ta  think  they  hev 
been  saying  about  our  Edith?" 

"  Why1  then,  Amos,  I  don't  hev  to  guess 
what  they  hev  been  saying.  Eliza  Yates  hes 
a  sister  living  at  Lady  Charlton's ;  and  Eliza 
heard  a  good  bit  from  her." 

"  Does  ta  mind  telling  me  ?  " 

"  Why,  Amos,  there's  no  good  in  repeating 
ill  words." 

"  I'll  be  bound  thou  repeated  them  to 
Edith." 

"  No,  I  didn't.  What  does  ta  take  me  for  ? 
Does  ta  think  thou  hes  a  monopoly  of  all  t' 
sense  and  kindness  there  is  in  this  part  ©'York 
shire  ?  But  if  ta  wants  to  know  how  women 
talk,  I'll  tell  thee.  One  said  there  was  no  won 
der  that  Edith  and  thee  suited  each  other  so 
well,  two  bad-tempered,  self-willed  tyrants  that 
niver  let  poor  Joe  Braithwaite  hev  a  thought  o' 
his  own  nor  a  half-penny  of  his  own  to  spend." 

"  They  ought  to  be  ashamed  o'  themselves  I 
Such  lies." 

"  They  said,  too,  that  thou  hed   driven  Joe 


230  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE 

from  Bevin,  and  that  Edith  had  driven  him 
from  Bradley." 

"As  if  Joe  was  such  a  feather-weight  fool  as 
to  be  driven  from  pillar  to  post  by  an  owd 
father  and  a  young  wife — he  would  deserve  it." 

"  Driven  from  both  places  wi'  tempers,  and 
black  looks,  and  ordering  ways  as  no  man  could 
stand." 

"Well  then,  aught  else?" 

"  Ay,  Jeremiah  Wade  hed  told  some  one, 
who  told  Major  Pennington,  that  he  hed  been 
in  Samuel  Yorke's  factory,  and  hed  seen  Joe  in 
a  flannel  shirt  and  blue  apron,  working  like  a 
common  man — and  his  wife  living  in  t'  lap  o' 
luxury,  as  they  say — and  such  and  such  like." 

"Well,  then?" 

"  Oh,  it's  all  nonsense.  Ta  knows  Eliza  heard 
some  queer  talk  about  thy  friend  Mr.  Latrays 
being  there  so  often  ;  and  Mr.  Latrays  hed  said 
in  a  room  full  o'  company  at  Sir  Thomas  Wil 
son's  that  he  considered  Mrs.  Joe  Braithwaite 
a  most  remarkably  beautiful  woman." 

"Ay,  that  'ud  hurt  'em  badly,  no  doubt.  So 
she  is  !  A  most  remarkably  beautiful  woman. 
Mr.  Latrays  thinks  right.  He  things  as  I  do. 
Joe  hes  my  taste  about  women.  So  Mr.  Lat- 


CALUMNY.  231 

rays  said  she  was  beautiful,  right  to  their  faces. 
He  sail  have  my  vote  as  long  as  I  live." 

"  And  ta  sees,  Amos,  he  kind  o'slighted  other 
ladies  in  praising  her  so  much ;  and  people 
thought  it  varry  improper  of  him.  It  was  fool 
ish,  I'll  say  that  mysen." 

"  It  was  honest,  and  true,  and  friend-like.  If 
Jack  Latrays  wants  a  thousand  pounds  for  his 
next  election,  he  can  hev  it." 

"  People  thought  his  praise  of  her  very  im 
proper,  Edith  being,  they  said,  as  good,  or  as 
bad  as  a  deserted  wife." 

"  Deserted  wife,  indeed !  She's  nowt  of  t' 
sort !  I'll  mak'  them  eat  their  own  words,  and 
it  will  be  a  meal  as  will  mak'  them  a  bit  sick,  I 
think.  What  else  did  they  say?" 

"  Well,  they  gave  thee  thy  character  too. 
Lady  Charlton  thought  there  had  been  a  mis 
take,  and  that  Edith  would  hev  done  better  if 
she  hed  married  t'  father  instead  of  t'  son.  Oh, 
ta  knows  how  they  would  talk,  what's  t'  good 
of  saying  more?  " 

"  No,  thet's  enough,  I'm  sure  !  Did  ta  hear 
tell  of  t'  men  saying  either  this  or  that  ?  " 

"  Squire  Lumley  said  Edith  had  a  temper  like 
that  biting,  kicking  hunter  of  his  that  he  calls 


232  MASTER  OF  HIS  FATE. 

Satan,  but  I  know  how  that  comes.  He  bed  too 
much  wine  at  t'  last  Hunt  Ball,  and  he  spoke  to 
Edith,  and  she  said  a  few  words  to  him  that  he 
well  deserved  from  every  woman.  But  he  is 
taking  it  out  of  her  to-day." 

"  Never  mind  !  I'll  tak'  it  out  o'  him  to-mor 
row.  He  went  off  this  summer  about  t'  time 
Joe  went,  and  he  doesn't  know,  happen,  that 
Edith  hes  me  at  her  back.  But  I  hev  some 
paper  o'  his,  and  I  know  where  to  buy  plenty 
more,  and  if  he  doesn't  mind  I'll  hang  a  red 
flag  out  of  his  windows  varry  soon.  Men  that 
owe  money  should  keep  a  civil  tongue  in  their 
heads.  I'll  teach  Lumley  that  lesson,  if  he 
niver  learns  another." 


CHAPTER  XV. 

AMOS   MAKES   MORNING  CALLS. 

"  And  often  I  have  heard  defended, 
Little  said  is  soonest  mended." 

"  Just  hint  a  fault  and  hesitate  dislike." — Pope. 

"  A  generous  friendship  no  cold  medium  knows, 
Burns  with  one  love,  with  one  resentment  glows." 

"    JOSHUA  PERKINS,  ESQ.     DEAR  SIR: 
Buy    up   for  me  ivery  scrap    of  Squire 
J     Lumley's  paper  thou  can  get  thy  fingers 
on  ;  and  send  thy  clerk  Jonas  Sutcliffe  to  Bevin 
Mill  to-morrow  morning  at  ten    o'clock.     Let 
him  bring    some    o'  thy    legal  cap   and    a  pen 
and  ink-horn  with  him.      I    want    him   to  take 
down  a  few  bits  of  conversation  for  me. 
"Thine  truly, 

"  AMOS  BRAITHWAITE." 

This  message  gave  Perkins  considerable  food 
for  thought  ;  but  he  complied  exactly  with  the 
requisition,  reflecting,  as  he  did  so,  that,  as  the 
service  was  an  unusual  one,  he  could  charge  it 
without  reference  to  any  customary  rate.  Sof 


234  MASTER    OF  HIS  FATE. 

at  ten  o'clock  precisely,  Jonas  Sutcliffe,  with 
the  professional  blue  bag,  was  waiting  at  Bevin 
Mill  such  orders  as  Amos  had  to  give  him. 

Amos  was  in  his  gig,  and  he  bid  Jonas  take 
a  seat  beside  him.  "  We  are  going  to  Charlton 
House,"  he  said,  "  and  I  want  thee  ta  tak' 
partic'lar  notice  of  ivery  word  that  is  passed. 
I'll  mebbe  put  thee  on  t'  witness  stand  about 
them.  Hes  ta  such  a  thing  as  a  card  on  thee  ?  " 

Jonas  took  one  from  his  pocket-book  and 
gave  it  to  Amos.  "  Mr.  Jonas  Sutcliffe,"  and 
on  the  left-hand  corner,  "  With  Joshua  Perkins, 
Esq.,  Attorney-at-law." 

"  That  is  t'  varry  thing.  It  will  get  us  an 
audience,  I  hev  no  doubt." 

But  it  was  still  early  when  they  arrived  at 
Charlton  House,  and  the  butler  was  very  uncer 
tain  whether  my  lady  would  see  any  one,  as  he 
asked  if  the  gentlemen  would  send  their  cards. 

"  Give  that  fellow  thy  card,  Mr.  Sutcliffe.  I 
hevn't  such  a  thing.  Thine  will  do  for  us  both, 
I'll  warrant." 

The  card  interested  Lady  Charlton.  She 
wondered  what  two  of  Perkins'  clerks  could 
possibly  want  with  her  ;  besides  which,  she  had 
on  a  new  morning  gown,  and  was  not  averse  to 


AMOS  MAKES  MORNING  CALLS.  235 

displaying  herself  in  it.  The  early  hours  of  the 
day  were  always  tedious ;  any  thing  that  broke 
their  monotony  was  welcome.  So  she  gave 
orders  to  admit  the  strangers  to  her  presence, 
and  in  the  interval  thought  it  worth  while  to 
assume,  for  their  benefit,  her  most  elegant  and 
dignified  attitude. 

Amos  entered  first.  She  knew  him  at  once, 
and  her  heart  gave  a  little  flutter  of  fear. 
Something  in  the  man's  face  annoyed  her  an- 
ticipatively,  but  she  rose,  against  her  intention 
to  do  so,  and  with  a  pleasant  smile  and  greet 
ing  offered  him  her  hand. 

Amos  let  his  eyes  fall  on  the  long,  white, 
jewelled  fingers,  and  answered  bluntly,  "  Nay, 
my  lady,  not  yet.  I'm  not  one  of  them  that 
claps  hands  wi'  ivery  body.  I  hev  come  to  ask 
thee  a  few  questions  about  my  daughter-in-law, 
Mrs.  Joe  Braithwaite." 

"  Oh,  indeed,  Mr.  Braithwaite,  I  can  tell  you 
nothing  about  the  lady." 

"  Put  that  down,  will  ta,  Mr.  Sutcliffe." 

"  Mr.  Braithwaite,  I  will  not  permit  the 
words  I  say  in  my  own  house  to  be  put  down. 
What  right  have  you  to  come  here  on  any  such 
errand.  You  will  leave  my  presence  at  once." 


236  MASTER    OF  HIS  FATE. 

"  Well  now,  I  thought  I  was  acting  varry 
considerate.  I  thought  thou  would  rather 
hev  thy  words  put  down  in  thy  awn  house 
than  in  a  public  court-room." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Mr.  Braithwaite  ?  " 

"  I  mean  this.  There  has  been  some  scan 
dalous  things  said  o'  my  'daughter,  and  I  am 
going  to  irmk'  them  as  said  'em  stand  up  to 
ivery  word  and  prove  it,  or  else  pay  a  few  thou 
sand  pounds  for  t'  pleasure  they  took  in  speak 
ing  ill  of  a  better  woman  than  themsens." 

"  What  have  I  to  do  with  this  affair  ?  " 

"  I  sud  say  a  good  deal.  The  report  came 
from  thy  house." 

"  I  never  said  any  thing  against  Mrs.  Braith 
waite.  It  was  Mrs.  Lumley  and  Mrs.  Penning- 
ton.  I  can't  prevent  people  talking,  Mr.  Braith 
waite." 

"Put  that  down,  Mr.  Sutcliffe.  And  so, 
Lady  Charlton,  thou  niver  said  that  Mrs.  Joe 
Braithwaite  hed  driven  her  husband  out  of  his 
house?  " 

"  I  am  not  obliged  to  answer  your  questions, 
sir." 

"  Certainly  not.  If  thou  prefers  Joshua  Per 
kins  to  cross-question  thee." 


AMOS  MAKES  MORNING  CALLS,  237 

"  And  I  am  very  sure  I  should  not  answer 
Mr.  Perkins." 

"Then  ta  would  find  out  varry  soon  what 
contempt  o'  court  meant.  But  please  thysen. 
Either  in  thy  awn  house,  or  in  t'  public  court 
house,  thou  wilt  hev  to  deny,  or  else  prove,  all 
that  hes  been  said  about  my  daughter.  If  ta 
likes  to  do  it  in  public  best,  I  haven't  an  ob 
jection  to  mak',  I'm  sure." 

"  I  am  sure  I  never  said  that  Mrs.  Braith- 
waite  had  driven  her  husband  from  his 
home." 

"  I'm  glad  ta'  didn't.  Put  that  down,  Mr. 
Sutcliffe.  Now  thin,  did  ta  say  that  she  hed 
the  devil's  awn  temper  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  accustomed  to  speak  of  the 

of  that  person.  I  did  not  compare  Mrs.  Braith- 
waite  with  him,  in  any  respect." 

"  Did  ta  say  that  Mr.  Latrays  went  a  dea) 
too  often  to  see  her  ?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Did  ta  iver  say  that  she  wouldn't  let  her 
husband  have  a  halfpenny  to  spend,  and  that 
he  were  compelled  to  work  as  a  common 
laborer  for  t'  bread  he  ate  and  t'  roof  that 
covered  him  ?  " 


MASTER  OF  HIS  FATE. 

"  I  never  said  any  thing  of  the  kind.  I  may 
have  heard  it  said,  but  I  am  not  responsible  for 
that." 

"  I  sail  not    mak' thee    responsible    for   any 
body's  lies  but  thy  awn.     Did  ta  iver  say  that 
her   husband    hed    deserted    her,  and  that  no 
decent  woman  ought  to  speak  to  her?" 
"  I  heard  Mrs.  Lumley  say  that." 
*'  And  thou  didn't  sanction  it  in  any  way  ?  '* 
"  I  did  not  quarrel   with    my   friend    for  ex 
pressing  her  opinion  of  your  daughter.      Why 
should  I  ?  " 

"  But  is  Mrs.  Lumley's  opinion  thy  opinion  ?" 
"  Mr.  Braithwaite,  I'm  not  forced  to  tell  you 
my  opinions,  and  I  shall  not  do  so." 

"  To  be  sure,  if  ta  tells  them  to  nobody  else. 
I  hev  no  objection  to  thee  thinking  as  bad  as 
iver  ta  can  of  Mrs.  Braithwaite,  if  ta  doesn't 
put  thy  thoughts  into  words.  When  women 
keep  their  envy  and  malice  in  their  awn  hearts, 
there's  none  but  God  Almighty  and  t'  devil 
knows  it.  But  when  they  let  their  envy  and 
malice  bubble  out  o'  their  mouths,  and  good 
folks  are  likely  to  be  poisoned  wi'  such  hell- 
broth,  they  hev'  a  right  to  object  to  it,  I  sud 
say." 


AMOS  MAKES  MORNING  CALLS.  239 

"  You  talk  in  a  very  vulgar  manner,  sir.  I 
am  not  accustomed  to  such  language." 

"  Ay,  but  I'm  polite  with  thee,  to  what 
Perkins  ud  be.  But  if  ta  asserts  thou  knows 
nothing  of  Mrs.  Braithwaite,  and  niver  said 
wrong  of  her,  then  I  hev  done  with  thee,  to 
day." 

"  Certainly,  I  do." 

"  Hes  ta  made  notes  of  all  that  hes  been 
said,  Mr.  Sutcliffe?" 

"  I  have,  sir." 

"  Then  good  morning,  my  lady.  And  if  thou 
wilt  tak'  my  advice,  thou  won't  say  another 
word  against  Mrs.  Braithwaite.  If  ta  does, 
thou  wilt  hev  to  worry  it  out  wi'  Lawyer 
Perkins." 

"  I  have  told  you  that  I  know  nothing  against 
Mrs.  Braithwaite.  I  am  not  likely  to  invent 
any  thing  against  her." 

"  I  sud  think  not — now." 

"Sir!" 

"  I  am  just  going,  Lady  Charlton,  but  I'm  no- 
more  inclined  to  shake  hands  with  you  now 
than  I  was  when  I  came  in.  I'm  a  bit  partic'laf 
in  that  way.  Come,  Sutcliffe." 

Amos  was  wise  enough  to  see  that   he   had 


24°  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

frightened  Lady  Charlton  to  the  very  verge  of 
hysteria,  and  with  a  comfortable  sense  of  having 
inflicted  a  just  retribution  he  left  her.  He 
went  next  to  Mrs.  Lumley.  She  met  him  with 
considerable  bravado ;  she  did  not  draw  back 
at  all  from  her  position.  She  did  think  Mrs. 
Braithwaite  had  given  great  cause  for  unkind 
criticism.  More  the  pity!  People  occupying 
her  rank  in  the  county  ought  to  set  a  good  ex- 
ample.  She  was  sorry  Mrs.  Braithwaite  had 
failed.  She  believed  Mr.  Latrays  had  called 
three  or  four  times,  perhaps  oftener.  And  in 
Mrs.  Braithwaite's  position,  how  imprudent ! 
Even  the  appearance  of  evil  ought  to  be  avoided. 
As  for  Mr.  Joe  Braithwaite,  there  was  no  use 
denying  that  every  one  was  sorry  for  him  ;  for 
her  part  she  had  quite  approved  the  step  he 
had  taken.  She  was  very  sorry  also  for  Mrs. 
Braithwaite.  No  doubt,  if  she  had  any  feelings 
she  must  suffer  under  the  pressure  of  public 
opinion,  and  if  there  was  any  thing  actionable 
in  what  she  said,  she  was  willing  to  take  the 
consequences. 

"  Varry  well,  ma'am,"  answered  Amos  ;  "  I 
don't  say  but  what  I  think  better  o'  thee  for 
standing  up  to  thy  words,  even  if  they  be  lies, 


AMOS  MAKES  MORNING   CALLS.  241 

and  if  ta  wants  to  fight,  Amos  Braithwaite  isn't 
the  one  to  refuse  a  challenge.  Only  I  sail  fight 
with  my  own  weapons,  and  I  sail  put  thy  hus 
band  in  thy  shoes.  I  couldn't  hit  thee  hard 

enough,  but ,"  pulling  out  his  pocket-book, 

"  I  can  hit  him  pretty  hard  with  this  bit  o' 
paper,  and  I'll  hev  a  lot  more  o'  t'  same  kind  o* 
weapons  before  to-morrow  night.  Does  ta 
think  I'm  going  to  let  thee  blackguard  my 
daughter  for  nothing  ?  " 

"  I  don't  blackguard  any  one,  sir.  I  am  a  lady. 
I  will  not  permit  you  to  apply  such  dreadful 
words  to  me." 

"Thou  art  a  poor  mak'  o'  a  lady,  a  very  poor 
mak'  indeed.  Thy  lady  way  o'  being  sorry  for 
this,  and  regretting  that,  is  t'  varry  meanest 
kind  of  blackguarding.  All  t'  time  thou  art 
defaming  an  innocent  woman  thou  art  praising 
thysen.  '  I'm  sorry  Mrs.  Brailhwaite  is  so 
wicked  ;  I  wouldn't  be  so  wicked.  I  don't  ap 
prove  of  her  conduct ;  my  awn  is  so  much 
better.'  Now,  then,  thou  needn't  get  in  a 
passion.  I  hev  seen  thy  hand,  and  I'm  going 
away." 

"  I  consider  your  coming  here  at  all  a  very 
great  impertinence,  sir." 


«42  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE, 

"  Does  ta  ?  I  sud  advise  thee  to  pick  thy 
words  a  bit  better.  If  ta  doesn't  I'll  hev  a 
civiler  person  put  in  this  house.  Thou  had 
better  send  Squire  Lumley  to  see  me;  thou  art 
only  making  a  sight  o'  trouble  for  him.  and  I 
sudn't  wonder  if  he  gives  thee  some  varry  plain 
English  for  thy  folly.  Come,  Mr.  Sutcliffe,  I 
sail  not  waste  any  more  time  and  words  here." 

The  visit  to  Mrs.  Pennington  was  more  satis 
factory.  Mrs.  Pennington  regretted  the  evil 
talk  very  much.  She  had  never  had  a  wrong 
thought  of  Mrs.  Braithwaite  ;  she  admired  her 
very  much  in  every  way.  She  had  always  said 
that  Mr.  Joe  Braithwaite's  desire  to  go  back  to 
manufacturing  was  a 'most  admirable  feeling; 
she  thought  Mrs.  Braithwaite  deserved  great 
praise  for  so  pleasantly  endorsing  it.  She  was 
so  smooth  and  complimentary  that  Amos  could 
do  nothing  but  make  her  notice  that  all  her 
opinions  had  been  recorded,  and  that  if  further 
events  rendered  such  a  step  necessary  she 
would  have  to  abide  by  them. 

It  was  quite  enough.  The  timid  little  woman 
was  sick  with  that  vague  terror  which  the  least 
threat  of  the  law  can  inspire  in  some  breasts. 
She  wept  piteously  in  her  own  room,  and  re- 


AMOS  MAXES  MORNING  CALLS.          243 

proached  without  stint  that  false  friendship  of 
Lady  Charlton  and  Mrs.  Lumley  which  had 
lead  her  into  the  dangerous  pleasure  of  defa 
mation. 

"  Now  then,"  said  Amos,  "  I  am  going  to  see 
the  rector.  If  I  can  get  him  on  my  side,  he'll 
manage  these  women  a  deal  better  than  I  can, 
and  save  me  time  and  worry;  for  I'll  tell  thee 
what,  Sutcliffe,  I'd  rather  give  a  man  a  good 
thrashing  than  bully  a  fidgetting,  nervous 
woman,  howiver  much  in  t'  fault  she  may  be." 

"  For  my  part,  Mr.  Braithwaite,  I  think  that 
husbands  ought  to  be  held  responsible  for  the 
folly  of  their  wives." 

Amos  looked  at  the  young  man  with  wither* 
ing  sarcasm. 

"Thou  isn't  married,  is  ta,  Sutcliffe?" 

"  No,  indeed,  sir." 

"  I  thought  so." 

"  Men  should  keep  their  wives  in  order." 

"To  be  sure." 

"  If  I  had  a  wife—" 

"She'd  say  and  she'd  do  as  she  liked;  and 
what's  more,  she'd  make  thee  say  and  do  as  she 
liked.  Is  ta  made  o'  different  clay  from  othef 
men  ?  I  very  man  is  Adam,  or  worse." 


MASTER    OF  HIS  FATE. 

"Worse?" 

"  Ay ;  if  he  isn't  a  fool  like  Adam,  he's  varry 
apt  to  be  a  brute  thet  threshes  women  and 
children,  and  thet  hes  his  own  way  because  it  is 
such  a  wicked,  cruel  way  that  no  woman  would 
hev  it.  Don't  thee  be  too  clever,  Sutcliffe. 
It's  a  fault  o'  young  men,  these  days.  They 
know  every  thing  but  t'  main  thing,  and  that  is, 
how  very  little  they  do  know." 

The  rector  was  walking  about  his  garden, 
with  his  hands  clasped  behind  his  back,  and  his 
face  full  of  placid  thought.  Amos  left  Sutcliffe 
in  the  gig  and  joined  him.  They  spoke  of  many 
things,  ere  Amos  opened  the  subject  upon  which 
he  had  come.  Indeed,  he  felt  some  diffidence 
about  troubling  this  serene,  scholarly  man  with 
the  idle  clash  of  women's  tongues,  until  he 
asked — 

"  Have  you  any  special  business  with  me, 
Mr.  Braithwaite  ?  You  are  a  man  of  such  great 
occupations  that  I  can  hardly  hope  you  have 
done  me  the  simple  honor  of  a  call." 

"You  come  very  near  the  truth,  sir.  While 
you  were  in  Norway  this  summer,  my  son 
put  into  execution  a  plan  he  has  been  think 
ing  of  for  a  long  time.  He  went  to  Man- 


AMOS  MAKES  MORNING   CALLS.  245 

Chester  to  learn  cotton  spinning  with  his  god 
father." 

"  No  harm  in  that.  A  very  creditable  move 
ment,  I  should  say." 

"  People  hev  made  harm  out  of  it.  They 

hev  said  a  deal  of  harm  about  his  wife things 

as  seem  as  if  they  might  be  true,  but  hevn't  a 
word  of  truth  in  them," 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  you  say  this,  Mr. 
Braithwaite.  Then  your  daughter-in-law  ap 
proves  the  step  her  husband  has  taken  ?  " 

"  With  all  her  heart."  Then  Amos  was  per 
mitted  to  make  that  explanation  of  affairs 
which  is  always  satisfactory.  He  was  never 
interrupted  or  opposed,  and  he  was  distinctly 
made  to  feel  that  he  had  his  listener's  sympathy. 

"  I  think  I  understand  the  whole  position, 
Mr.  Braithwaite." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  you  do,  sir." 

"  Mrs.  Braithwaite  has  been  placed  in  a  very 
trying  position.  Mrs.  Clive  and  myself  will  do 
all  we  can  to  encourage  her  in  it.  Of  course 
we  can  understand  that  she  would  have  much 
preferred  her  husband  to  live  upon  his  estate." 

"  Perhaps  she  would.  But  Joe  couldn't  do 
it.  The  Braithwaites  were  never  landed  gentry. 


246  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

We  came  out  of  the  Mill,  and  my  son  is  only 
following  his  natural  instinct  in  wanting  to  go 
back  to  it.  And  we  like  to  make  money.  It  is 
a  second  life  to  us." 

"  I  see,  I  see.  And  I  hope  you  understand  a 
great  deal  of  money  is  a  great  trust,  Mr.  Braith- 
waite." 

"  I'm  coming  to  that,  sir.  While  my  Joe  is 
in  Manchester,  I  have  promised  to  be  a  deal  in 
Bradley,  and  it's  but  right  I  sud  do  something 
for  t'  parish.  I  heard  you  were  intending  to 
found  a  new  school.  I'd  like  to  give  ,£500  to  it." 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Braithwaite.  It  is  a  great 
charity.  Your  gift  is  munificent." 

"  Nay,  it's  nowt  but  right,  and  I  like  to  do 
right  if  folks  will  let  me.  I  hev  been  more  to 
Bradley  Church  this  last  half  year  then  I  hev 
been  to  any  other  church  for  twenty  years.  I 
like  to  go  to  church  now,  and  it's  only  fair  I 
ought  to  do  for  t'  parish  according  to  my 
means.  My  daughter  was  fearing  that  she 
could  never  go  there  again,  but  I  told  her  that 
was  nonsense." 

"  It  would  be  very  wrong,  sir.  Mrs.  Braith 
waite  is  lady  of  Bradley-Manor.  We  all  look 
to  her  for  help  and  countenance,  and  a  good 


AMOS  MAKES  MORNING  CALLS.  247 

example.  With  so  much  dissent  around  us, 
churchwomen  cannot  neglect  the  service  and 
be  innocent.  There  has  evidently  been  a  mis 
understanding  as  to  her  position,  I  shall  take 
care  that  it  is  more  clearly  and  kindly  appre 
ciated." 

"  Now  then,  if  ta  says  that,  I  sail  just  go 
back  to  my  mill,  and  look  after  my  looms, 
and  if  ^500  is  not  enough  for  t'  school  I'll  be 
glad  and  proud  to  mak'  it  more.  I  like  to  give 
to  t'  church  when  there's  a  parson  as  makes 
giving  a  privilege  and  a  pleasure.  Good- 
morning,  sir." 

"  Good-morning,  Mr.  Braithwaite.  My  re 
spects — and  Mrs.  Clive's  respects,  also — to  Mrs. 
Braithwaite." 

And  after  Amos  had  gone  the  rector  con 
tinued  his  walk,  thinking  over  the  interview, 
with  the  flicker  of  a  smile  upon  his  face.  But 
he  was  a  shrewd,  as  well  as  a  kindly  man,  and 
he  understood  Amos  probably  better  than 
Amos  understood  himself.  "  A  little  courtesy 
and  simple  justice  will  bring  this  man  into  the 
fold  of  mother  church  again,  and  he  is  a  son 
that  has  both  the  inclination  and  the  power  to 
be  generous  to  his  spiritual  mother."  Thus  he 


248  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

thought,  as  he  entered  his  wife's  sitting-room, 
in  order  to  enlist  her  sympathy  and  help. 

Mrs.  Clive  listened  with  the  calm  justice  that 
was  part  of  her  nature,  and  was  evidently  con 
vinced  ;  for  she  answered :  "  Mrs.  Braithwaite 
was  never  popular  ;  she  never  tried  to  be ;  but 
there  has  undoubtedly  been  misapprehension 
and  I  dare  say  no  little  unkindness  all  around. 
I  will  make  a  few  calls  this  week,  and  I  think, 
after  them,  people  will  at  least  be  civil  in 
church.  Socially,  of  course,  we  are  not  respon 
sible  for  the  congregation,  and  really,  William,  I 
must  say  that  I,  for  one,  never  did  like  Mrs. 
Joe  Braithwaite,  nor  even  Miss  Edith  Bradley, 
very  much.  You  remember  that  even  before 
she  was  married  she  was  self-contained  and 
yet  self-asserting.  Such  women  are  impracti 
cable." 

"  It  is  impossible  to  like  every  one,  but  we 
can  be  courteous." 

"  Certainly,   we  can  be   courteous.     That  is 
one  of  the  duties  of  our  position.     Perhaps  it 
is  not  always  easy  or  pleasant." 
"  But  being  a  duty  we  do  it  ?  " 
"Yes.     When  did  I  ever  shirk  a  duty?  " 
On  the  next  Sunday,  Edith  was  inclined  to 


AMOS  MAKES  MORNING   CALLS.  249 

remain  away  from  church,  for  she  was  quite 
ignorant  of  the  measures  Amos  had  taken 
during  the  week.  But  he  would  not  listen  to 
her  fears.  He  induced  her  to  dress  with  more 
than  ordinary  magnificence.  He  wrote  and 
invited  Mr.  Latrays  to  meet  him  after  church, 
and  return  to  Bradley  and  Bevin  with  him. 
He  supplemented  his  cheque  of  £$00  with  a  £50 
note  for  the  poor  of  the  parish ;  and  he  looked 
forward  with  something  like  triumph  to  the 
morning  service. 

He  was  quite  satisfied  with  the  result.  Mrs. 
Clive  made  a  point  of  detaining  Edith  in  order 
to  secure  her  presence  at  a  meeting  to  be  held 
at  the  rectory  about  the  new  school.  Mrs. 
Major  Pennington  was  effusively  affectionate. 
Mrs.  Lumley  swallowed  her  social  pill  without 
a  wry  face,  and  Lady  Charlton  managed  her 
share  of  the  reconciliation  by  a  discreet 
absence. 

It  was  the  rector  himself  who  put  Mrs.  Joe 
in  her  carriage,  and  then  stood  a  few  moments 
at  its  side,  talking  with  Amos  and  Mr.  Latrays 
— humbling  himself  a  little,  as  a  good  man  will, 
in  order  to  bring  peace  and  prosperity  within 
the  walls  of  his  ovn  Zion. 


25°  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

And  when  Amos  looked  at  Edith,  whose  face 
was  flushed  with  gratification,  she  answered 
him  with  a  smile  that  quite  repaid  him  for  the 
espousal  of  her  cause.  And  he  let  Mr.  Latrays 
have  more  than  his  share  of  the  conversation, 
for  he  was  thinking  pleasant  things  of  himself 
— "  I  did  right,  I  did  that  !  I  bullied  them 
envious  old  women  a  bit.  I  put  a  clear  case 
before  t'  rector — who  hed  t'  sense  to  see  it — 
and  I  handed  over  a  tidy  cheque  as  I  sud  do, 
in  return  for  a  few  words  I  hedn't  power  o' 
saying  mysen.  Now,  then,  it's  worth  while 
spending  a  bit  o'  money  to  be  a  kind  o'  provi 
dence  in  your  own  corner  of  t'  world,  and  I 
think  I  hev  got  t'  value  o'  my  £550  ;  I  do  that." 

But  he  never  said  any  thing  to  Edith  about 
those  four  morning  calls,  until  one  night  long 
after  Joe's  return.  There  was  some  social  dis 
turbance  at  the  time,  and  Amos  listened  to  the 
gossip  about  it,  with  a  face  that  puzzled  Edith 
and  Joe,  until,  with  a  hearty  laugh,  he  burst 
into  a  description  of  his  social  tactics.  "And 
I'll  tell  you  what,  Joe,"  he  added,  "if  I  hedn't 
been  a  tip-top  spinner,  I'd  hev  been  a  tip-top 
county  society  leader.  I  would  hev  hed  no 
women's  quarrels  i'  my  neighborhood,  for  I 


AMOS  MAKES  MORNIXG    CALLS.  251 

sud  hev  made  them  tell  t*  truth,  or  else  pay 
such  a  figure  for  lying  about  each  other  that 
once  in  a  life-time  would  hev  been  as  much  o* 
that  kind  o'  luxury  as  they  could  afford." 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

JOE    HAS    A    SURPRISE. 

"  Now  let  us  thank  the  Eternal  Power, 
That  oft  the  cloud  which  wraps  the  present  hour 
Serves  but  to  brighten  all  our  future  days." 

"  If  solid  happiness  we  prize, 
Within  our  breast  this  jewel  lies  ; 
The  world  has  nothing  to  bestow, 
From  our  own  selves  our  joys  must  flow." 

TN  the  mean  time  cotton-spinning  and  calico- 
•••  printing  were  not  all  Joe  was  learning  with 
Samuel  Yorke.  The  man's  lofty,  simple  char- 
acter  and  child-like  piety  were  an  influence 
none  could  habitually  resist.  There  was  a 
spiritual  side  to  Joe's  nature  which  no  one  had 
ever  suspected,  and  Samuel  Yorke  found  it 
out.  In  their  quiet,  after-dinner  hours  con 
versation  always  drifted  to  religious  subjects, 
and  Samuel  spoke  upon  them  with  the  fervor 
of  perfect  love  ;  for  his  piety  was  a  convic 
tion  resting  rather  upon  experience  than  upon 
creed. 


JOE  HAS  A    SURPRISE.  *53 

"Truth  is  truth,"  he  would  say  to  Joe,  "just 
as  bread  is  bread,  whatever  shape  t'  loaf  may 
be  made.  I  got  my  religion  with  t'  Methodists, 
and  I  like  their  loaf  and  stand  by  it.  Just  thee 
try  it,  Joe." 

Joe  was  not  quite  ignorant  of  Methodism. 
Martha  Thrale  had  done  her  best  to  bring  him 
up  in  her  own  persuasion,  but  the  very  candor 
and  familiarity  of  its  experience  had  made  Joe 
shrink  from  it.  Youth,  contrary  to  general 
impression,  is  apt  to  be  secretive  about  its 
deepest  emotions  ;  if  it  is  any  thing  else,  the 
probabilities  are  that  the  whole  man  or  woman 
is  shallow.  They  who  prattle  about  their  love 
affairs  to  every  listener  have  no  depths  of  ten 
derness;  and  much  more  truly  may  it  be  said 
that  they  who  are  constantly  talking  of  their 
spiritual  experiences  know  nothing  of  those 
sweet,  secret  tokens  which  are  solemn,  sacred 
understandings  between  God  and  his  children. 

But  this  reticence  does  not  exclude  those 
guarded  and  intimate  communions,  those  affec 
tionate  counsels,  which  friend  and  brother  have 
with  one  another.  No  confidences  that  Joe 
had  ever  exchanged  with  Tom  Halifax  and 
others  of  his  gay  companions  were  so  enthral. 


254  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

ling  as  those  after-dinner  chats  with  Samuel 
Yorke  when  the  day  was  over  and  the  shadows 
of  the  evening  stretched  out.  Then  the  tide 
of  daily  life  had  quite  ebbed,  and  in  the  still 
ness  and  dimness  the  spiritual  perceptions  were 
more  sensitive ;  conscience  spoke  and  could  be 
heard  ;  the  soul  hearkened  after  voices  from  its 
long-lost  home  ;  the  men  drew  nearer  to  each 
other  and  nearer  to  God. 

It  was  in  such  hours  Joe  began  to  speak  of 
the  years  which  he  had  wasted,  and  of  the  mis 
takes  he  had  made,  very  shyly  and  almost 
defensively  at  first,  but  finally  with  the  full 
appreciation  of  all  that  such  loss  of  life  in 
cluded  ;  for  whoever  has  felt  any  thing  deeply 
must  be  haunted  by  the  phantoms  of  wasted 
hours  that  can  never  return. 

On  Sunday  night  a  minister  famed  for  his 
eloquence  was  to  preach,  and  Samuel  Yorke 
and  Joe  were  both  somewhat  excited  at  the 
prospect.  The  sermon  was  all  they  expected, 
a  magnificent  exposition  of  the  attributes  of 
the  Prince  of  the  House  of  David.  Joe  was 
particularly  affected  by  the  mighty  waves  of 
psalmody,  the  solemn  yet  hearty  enthusiasm 
with  which  the  worshiping  thousands  sang, 


JOE  HAS  A    SURPRISE.  255 

"  Bring  forth  the  royal  diadem, 
And  crown  Him  Lord  of  all," 

and  still  more  by  the  almost  awful  grandeur  of 
that  most  majestic  of  hymns  : 

"  Lo  !  He  comes  with  clouds  descending, 

Once  for  favored  sinners  slain  ; 
Thousand,  thousand  saints  attending, 
Swell  the  triumph  of  His  train  : 

Hallelujah  ! 
God  appears  on  earth  to  reign. " 

And  it  seemed  to  Joe,  when  the  standing  mul 
titude  blended  their  voices  with  the  rolling 
organ  in  those  lines  of  stern  pathos, 

"  Every  eye  shall  now  behold  Him, 

Robed  in  dreadful  majesty  ; 
Those  who  set  at  naught  and  sold  Him, 
Pierced  and  nailed  Him  to  the  tree, 

Deeply  wailing, 
Shall  the  true  Messiah  see." 

that  his  very  soul  grew  larger,  touched  infinite 
heights  and  depths,  and  felt,  at  least  for  a  few 
moments,  the  breath  of  its  own  divinity. 

He  did  not  speak  during  their  ride  home; 
he  did  not  feel  able  ;  but  it  was  not  necessary 
for  these  two  men  to  speak;  they  understood 
silence  as  well.  Yet,  after  they  had  sat  half 
an  hour  in  the  red  shadows  of  the  firelight,  and 


256  MASTER    OF  HIS  FATE. 

had  fully  gathered  their  thoughts  and  feelings 
together,  Joe  said : 

"  It  was  a  grand  sermon !  It  was  a  grand 
service!  It  was  good  to  be  there." 

Samuel  nodded,  looking  into  Joe's  face  with 
shining  eyes. 

"No  worldly  pleasures  can  so  stir  the  soul.  I 
have  had  music,  dancing,  travel,  good  company, 
fair  women,  but  none  of  these  things  ever  made 
me  feel  immortal." 

"  It  tak's  angels  to  move  the  great  depths  of 
our  souls,  Joe.  Wine,  music,  dancing,  even 
good  women,  only  move  us  a  bit  below  the 
surface.  It  tak's  the  everlasting  word  of  God 
to  bring  to  us  any  living  sense  o'  immortality." 

"  I  have  never  known  Jesus  Christ  until  this 
night.  The  Conqueror  of  all  His  enemies,  the 
Avenger  of  His  saints,  the  Lord  of  heaven  and 
earth.  It  was  a  wonderful  picture  !  " 

"  It  was  ;  and  yet  Joe,  will  ta  believe  it?  In 
t*  varry  rapture  of  t'  coronation  hymn,  I  was 
busy  thinking  o'  a  little  saying  o'  Saint  Peter's, 
which  to  my  mind  describes  Jesus  of  Naza 
reth  in  a  way  poor,  sinful,  suffering  men  and 
women  want  him  most  and  love  him  best.  '  A 
man  approved  of  God,  who  went  about  doing 


JOE  HAS  A    SURPRISE.  257 

good,  healing  all  that  were  oppressed'  Thou 
sees,  Joe,  a  great  conqueror  would  be  led  wet- 
shod  ;  blood  and  fire,  and  weeping  and  wailing 
wherever  he  went.  Oh,  my  lad,  that  isn't  how 
I  like  to  think  of  Him.  I  know  that  when  His 
weary  feet  went  to  Judea  he  left  blessing  and 
love  behind  him.  I  can  fancy  a  traveler  pass 
ing  through  a  village  at  that  time,  and  saying, 
"I  found  no  blind  men,  and  no  cripples,  and 
no  sick  people;  for  Jesus  of  Nazareth  had  just 
been  there." 

Joe  looked  at  his  friend  sympathetically,  but 
he  had  nothing  to  answer.  When  the  spiritual 
nature  is  above  the  mortal  one  it  is  not  easy 
to  say  many  words.  Can  the  language  of  flesh 
and  blood  interpret  the  emotions  of  the  spirit? 
No ;  when  the  spirit  is  master,  we  must  be 
still,  for  we  have  not  yet  learnt  the  spiritual 
tongue.  But  Joe  communed  with  his  own 
heart,  and  found  the  silence  sweetly  satisfying. 
For  God  knows  the  worshipers  unknown  to 
the  world,  or  even  to  the  prophets. 

It  will  be  easily  seen,  then,  that  the  young 
man  was  very  favorably  circumstanced  for 
spiritual  growth ;  and  yet  there  were  times 
when  he  stood  still,  when  he  actually  went 


<58  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

backward,  for  conversion  is  a  slow  and  tardy 
miracle,  the  fruit  of  sorrow  and  care  and  many 
bitter  unquietudes. 

Thus  at  Bradley  and  Manchester  the  time 
went  on,  every  day  bringing  its  own  lesson 
and  its  own  comfort.  Christmas  was  ap 
proaching,  and  Joe  began  to  have  strong  long 
ings  to  see  again  his  wife  and  child.  Surely, 
Yorke  would  not  consider  a  holiday  visit  to 
them  a  violation  of  his  agreement.  He  spoke 
of  Christmas  often,  in  the  hope  that  the  old 
man  would  express  some  opinion,  but  Yorke 
had  really  no  new  one  to  express.  He  had 
made  a  bargain  with  Joe.  Its  terms  were  clear 
in  his  own  mind  ;  he  expected  them  to  be  just 
as  clear  in  Joe's.  The  thing  had  been  settled 
beyond  future  discussion  ;  and  Joe  felt  this. 
He  was  sure  if  Yorke  meant  him  to  go  home 
he  would  speak  of  it,  and  if  he  did  not  mean 
it  no  argument  he  could  use  would  affect  him. 

True,  he  was  his  own  master,  and  his  servi 
tude  was  of  his  own  will ;  he  could  terminate  it 
to-morrow.  But  he  was  not  prepared  to  give 
up  his  project,  to  waste  his  six  months'  labor, 
to  cast  himself  adrift  on  an  aimless  life.  And 
if  for  a  week's  gratification  he  did  this  he  knew 


JOE  HAS  A  SURPRISE.  259 

what  self-reproach  would  follow.  And  what 
would  Edith  say,  and  his  father,  and  Aunt 
Martha  ?  In  such  a  case  even  the  whole  com 
munity  must  be  considered,  and  Joe  felt  that 
the  universal  verdict  would  be  that  of  Jacob 
on  Reuben/'  Unstable  as  water,  thou  shalt  not 
excel."  There  was  therefore  only  one  way  in 
which  he  could  visit  Bradley,  and  that  was 
with  Yorke's  permission,  and  Yorke  never  said 
a  word  which  implied  even  a  consideration  of 
the  subject. 

One  night  he  asked  with  as  little  concern  as 
he  could  manage  to  show,  "  For  how  long 
will  you  close,  at  the  holidays,  godfather?" 

"I  sail  shut  up  t' warehouse  and  t' factory 
on  Thursday  at  t'  noon  hour,  and  I  sail  open 
again  Monday  morning.  Them  'at  likes  to 
stop  away  at  t'  New  Year  can  do  so ;  but  I'll 
think  better  o'  them  that  begins  a  fresh  year 
wi'  honest  work  instead  o'  foolishness  and 
senseless  feasting." 

Now  Samuel  had  a  daughter  married,  and 
living  in  London,  and  Joe  made  his  last  insinu 
ation  when  he  asked,  "Are  you  going  up  to 
London  to  see  Mrs.  Powers  and  your  grand 
children  ?" 


26o  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

"Nay,  not  I.  I  am  none  fond  o'  London, 
and  I  sud  be  a  good  part  of  two  days  in  a  rail- 
way  carriage.  I  go  and  see  Mary  and  t'  chil 
dren  every  July;  they  are  in  t'  country  then, 
and  that's  summat  like  a  holiday." 

But  not  even  this  leading  question  procured 
any  allusion  to  Joe's  relations,  and  he  was  much 
annoyed  by  Yorke's  reticence  on  the  subject. 
But  he  was  wise  enough  to  accept  the  fact  as 
a  positive  proof  that  Yorke  did  not  intend 
Joe's  family  to  be  any  factor  of  the  agreement 
between  them. 

And  Yorke  understood  Joe's  allusions  very 
well.  "  I  know  what  he's  after,"  he  thought, 
with  some  real  regret,  "  but  if  he  isn't  up  to 
this  bit  of  self-denial,  he  may  as  well  go  home 
entirely.  I'll  hev  nothing  less  than  I  bargained 
for.  It  would  be  a  foolish  thing  to  let  him  go 
home  for  a  week,  and  be  lord  of  t'  manor,  and 
have  every  body  running  after  him,  and  wait 
ing  on  him,  hand  and  foot,  and  humoring  all 
his  whims,  as  if  he  were  doing  something  more 
than  mortal  man  iver  did  before.  I'll  hev 
no  woman  melling  with  my  work — aunt  or  wife 
— and  I  sail  hold  him  to  his  bargain,  ivery  let- 


JOE  HAS  A    SURPRISE.  261 

ter  of  it,  for  I'm  varry  sure  it  is  t'  right  thing 
and  t'  kind  thing  to  do." 

However,  there  is  in  every  human  intention 
some  unforeseen  element  which  has  not  been 
remembered  or  reckoned  for ;  and  Yorke  never 
thought  of  Edith  coming  to  Manchester  to  see 
Joe.  Nobody  thought  of  it.  The  idea  entered 
into  her  own  head  one  morning,  a  few  days 
before  Christmas,  as  she  was  going  over  the  de 
tails  of  the  feast  with  her  housekeeper.  She 
had  much  to  do  for  her  tenants,  and  when  it 
was  all  arranged  she  remembered  Joe  with  a 
wave  of  love  and  pity  that  brought  the  tears 
to  her  eyes. 

"  He  isn't  coming  home,"  she  whispered. 
"  He  says  Yorke  will  not  even  speak  of  it. 
Very  well.  Yorke  cannot  prevent  mygoingto 
see  Joe,  and  I'll  go  to-morrow." 

So  next  day  she  stepped  from  a  carriage  in 
Spinning-Jenny  street,  Manchester,  a  beautiful, 
queen-like  woman  in  purple  velvet  and  ermine 
furs  ;  and  Samuel  Yorke,  catching  a  passing 
glimpse  of  this  feminine  apparel,  thought  it 
must  be  his  daughter,  and  hastened  to  the  door 
to  meet  her. 

"  I  am  Mrs.  Joe  Braithwaite,"  she  said,  with 


262  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

a  smile,  and  Samuel  was  quite  conquered  by  its 
winsome  sweetness. 

"  Thou  art  welcome,"  he  answered.  "  Will 
ta  come  in?" 

But  she  wanted  to  see  Joe  at  once,  just  as 
he  was.  And  Yorke  was  not  able  to  resist  her 
pretty  impetuosity. 

"Well,  then,  ta  shall  see  him,"  and  he  got 
into  the  carriage  and  drove  with  her  to  the 
mill,  which  was  more  than  two  miles  away  from 
the  warehouse. 

Joe  was  in  the  dyeing  shed,  standing  among 
piles  and  stacks  of  logs  of  the  oddest  looking 
woods  :  some  were  yellow  and  splintering, 
some  red  and  scraggy,  some  purple  and  solid. 
Around  him  were  bundles  of  bark,  barrels  of 
salts,  and  carboys  of  acids  and  oils.  He  was 
talking  earnestly  to  the  master  dyer,  and 
Edith  saw  him  before  he  had  any  idea  of  her 
presence.  Fashion  had  never  dressed  him  to 
such  perfection  as  labor.  Handsome  he  had 
always  been,  but  never  so  handsome  in  his 
wife's  eyes  as  at  that  moment,  though  he  wore 
a  flannel  shirt  and  a  flannel  apron,  though 
his  naked  arms  were  stained  with  indigo,  and 


JOE  HAS  A    SURPRISE.  263 

his  brown,  curly  hair  was  partially  covered 
with  a  little  scarbt  cap. 

11  Joe  !  Joe  !  "  she  cried,  softly,  as  she  began 
to  pick  her  way  toward  him. 

And  oh  !  how  proud  and  glad  Joe  was !  It 
was  a  moment  cheaply  bought  with  six  months 
of  toil  and  self-banishment.  In  some  degree 
also  Samuel  Yorke  was  quite  conquered.  He 
saw  their  joy,  and  he  could  not  help  sympathis 
ing  with  it. 

"  I'll  hev  to  giv  thee  a  holiday,  Joe,"  he  said. 
"  So  don  thy  street  clothes  and  be  off  wi'  thee. 
I  know  thou  won't  be  fit  to  dye  cloth  to-day." 

"  Mr.  Yorke,  couldn't  Joe  go  back  to  Bradley 
with  me  for  a  week  ?  " 

"  No,  my  lass,  he  couldn't." 

"Just  for  three  days,  then?  I  think  you 
might  let  him  have  three  days.  Every  one 
goes  home  at  Christmas,  you  know." 

"  No,  I  didn't  know  aught  of  t'  sort.  Mrs. 
Braithwaite,  this  won't  do  at  all.  I  hev  let 
Joe  off  to-day.  If  ta  takes  him  to  Bradley  now, 
thou  can  keep  him  there.  I  see  plainly  that 
ivery  man  hes  to  hev  his  Eve.  If  ta  takes  my 
advice,  thou  won't  tempt  a  good  man  to  leave 
the  good  work  he  hes  put  his  hand  to." 


264  MASTER  OF  HIS  FATE. 

"You  mustn't  call  me  Eve,  Mr.  Yorke ;  I  do 
not  intend  to  tempt  Joe  to  leave  his  work." 

"  That's  right.  I  don't  want  any  woman  in 
terfering  with  my  work,  and  Joe  is  my  work, 
for  t'  next  eighteen  months." 

"  I  would  not  interfere  for  the  world,  sir.  I 
will  do  exactly  as  you  say." 

"Now  thou  talks  sense.  I  begin  to  believe 
all  t*  fine  things  Joe  says  of  thee,  and  Joe  can 
say  a  lot  when  he  begins,  he  can  that." 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

AMOS    MAKES    EDITH    A    PROPOSAL. 

"  He  hath  hands  enough  for  himself  and  others." 
"  Power  to  its  last  particle  is  duty." 
"  We  make  our  fortunes,  and  we  call  them  fate." 
"  Every  thing  that  happens  is  but  a  link  in  a  chain." 

\  FTER  Edith's  visit  to  Manchester,  life  at 
_/~\_  Bradley  went  on  in  a  very  even  and  satis 
factory  way.  Her  affairs  were  not  again  dis 
cussed,  even  by  the  most  intimate  of  friends, 
and  she  was  every  where  treated  with  that 
marked  politeness  which  is  the  expression  of 
respect  untinged  by  a  familiarity  too  often  apt 
to  verge  upon  contempt.  For  Amos  had  made 
himself  very  popular  in  Bradley  ;  he  had  given 
nobly  to  its  charities,  and  he  had  a  way,  not 
only  of  interfering  in  local  troubles,  but  also  of 
making  them  disappear.  It  was  money  in  one 
direction,  it  was  work  in  another ;  but  it  was 
always  help  in  just  the  place  and  way  that 
help  was  needed. 


266  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

The  rector  found  his  hands  wonderfully 
strengthened  by  this  straightforward,  pushing, 
generous  man.  And  as  he  stood  at  Edith's 
side,  very  much  in  the  attitude  of  a  watch-dog 
noting,  with  pleased  or  lowering  face,  any  at 
tention  or  want  of  attention  to  his  daughter, 
no  one  was  inclined  to  incur  his  ill-will. 

For  the  ill-will  of  Amos  was  by  no  means  a 
bark  without  a  bite.  Mrs.  Lumley  would  have 
said,  had  she  dared,  that  she  and  the  Squire 
had  been  almost  worried  to  death  by  him. 
And,  indeed,  it  was  well  known  that  the  proud 
woman  had  been  compelled  to  entreat  Edith's 
espousal  of  her  cause,  in  order  to  prevent  the 
auctioneer's  flag  which  Amos  had  promised 
them.  But  having  brought  her  to  this  point, 
Amos  was  glad  to  put  the  utmost  extent  of 
mercy  in  the  hands  of  Edith. 

"  Tell  her,"  he  said,  "  she  can  send  t'  Squire 
to  me.  If  thou  says  be  easy  wi'  them,  I'll 
warrant  I  won't  be  hard." 

"  Mrs.  Lumley  wants  to  see  you,  herself, 
father." 

"  Nay,  nay,  I'll  do  no  business  wi'  women. 
I'm  too  soft.  If  she  didn't  mak'  a  fool  of 
me,  she  would  call  me  a  brute.  But  ta  can 


AMOS  MAKES  EDITH  A    PROPOSAL.      267 

tell  her  thou  hes  saved  her  home ;  and  for 
t'  rest,  let  Squire  Lumley  speak  for  himsen. 
If  it  hurts  his  pride  a  bit,  it  will  do  him 
good.  He  hes  never  done  aught  but  spend 
money  all  his  life,  and  nobody,  as  I  can  hear 
of,  hes  hed  t'  gumption  to  give  t'  young  man 
a  bit  of  good  advice.  I  sail  not  let  my  op 
portunity  pass;  he'll  be  sure  to  get  some  truth 
from  me,  and  happen  it  will  do  him  good." 

The  tie  between  Edith  and  her  father-in- 
law  had  become  a  very  strong  and  tender  one. 
He  admired  her  thoroughly ;  her  business  tact 
elicited  his  sincere  admiration;  her  little  econo 
mies  were  his  delight  ;  her  beauty,  her  stately 
carriage,  her  rich  clothing,  her  authoritative 
ways  were  subjects  on  which  he  never  wearied 
of  conversation. 

Martha  Thrale  listened  to  him  with  many 
silences  and  reserves.  She  liked  Edith  better 
than  she  had  ever  hoped  or  intended  to  like 
her,  but  women  see  women  in  a  way  men  have 
not  the  faculty  of  seeing  them.  The  pretty 
wiles  and  flatteries  that  were  so  charming  to 
Amos,  and  in  which  he  so  thoroughly  believed, 
affected  Martha  with  a  trifle  of  wonder  and 
contempt.  She  saw  through  them,  and  won- 


268  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

dered  why  Edith  should  take  a  bye-way  to  her 
object  when  there  was  a  high-way. 

"  She  is  a  varry  fair  specimen  of  a  woman," 
she  would  say,  a  little  impatiently,  "  but  she 
isn't  an  angel.  She  hes  her  faults,  like  'all  V 
rest  of  women." 

"  Then  I  hevn't  seen  them,  Martha." 

"  No,  because  she  mak's  so  much  o'  thee. 
One  would  think  thet  she  niver  hed  a  father  cf 
her  awn." 

"  She  hed  a  varry  mean  one,  poor  lass ;  I  sud 
really  hope  thet  she  does  find  me  a  different 
mak'  o'  a  man  to  old  Bradley." 

"  Dear  me,  Amos  !  Thou  beats  every  thing. 
Setting  thysen  up  above  a  daughter's  awn  fa 
ther!  It  isn't  right,  ta  knows." 

"  Isn't  it?  I  wouldn't  set  mysen  varry  high 
by  topping  Luke  Bradley.  I'm  not  an  angel 
either,  Martha,  but  I  do  hope  as  I  am  a  better 
sort  of  a  man  than  Luke  Bradley  was." 

"  Well,  Amos,  Luke  Bradley  is  dead  and 
judged  now,  and  thou  hesn't  any  right  to  say 
aught." 

"  Thet's  so,  and  I  hev  got  a  grand  upper 
hand  o'  him.  I  hope  he  knows  it,  Martha.  I 
Sud  think  he  does.  There  wouldn't  be  much 


AMOS  MAKES  EDITH  A   PROPOSAL.      269 

use  in  having  t'  upper  hand  o'  Luke,  if  he  didn't 
know  it." 

"  I  hope  he  knows  how  good  thou  hes  been 
to  his  daughter." 

"  Ay,  I  hev  been  good  to  Edith.  But  Edith 
is  a  woman  as  is  worth  a  man  going  out  of  his 
way  for." 

"  She's  varry  well.  I  hev  known  some  better, 
I  think." 

When  conversation  got  to  this  point,  Amos 
had  always  the  good  sense  to  turn  it  upon  the 
subject  about  which  their  opinions  were  unani 
mous — little  Joe. 

"  Did  ta  iver  see  such  a  fine  lad  ?  " 

"  Niver,  Amos,  unless  it  were  his  father." 
Then  the  child's  beauty,  his  spirit,  his  loving 
disposition,  his  bright  intelligence,  were  afresh 
discussed,  and  Amos  smoked,  and  talked,  and 
listened,  until  he  was  in  a  state  of  supreme 
satisfaction  with  himself  for  owning  such  an 
admirable  son  and  such  an  extraordinary 
grandson. 

During  the  following  Easter  holidays,  Amos 
was  most  of  his  time  at  Bradley.  He  had  Per 
kins  there,  and  he  went  over  the  accounts  of 
the  estate  with  him,  and  was  much  gratified  at 


270  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

the  handsome  balance.  He  never  took  into 
consideration  the  retired  way  in  which  Edith 
had  been  living  during  the  absence  of  her  hus 
band,  the  omission  of  the  summer  travel,  and 
the  winter's  entertainments;  he  put  the  whole 
sum  against  his  own  management.  And  this 
not  out  of  any  intentional  desire  to  appropri 
ate  credit  not  justly  his  own,  but  simply  because 
his  tremendous  self-esteem  led  him  to  make  all 
things  feed  its  never-ceasing  hunger. 

The  Saturday  previous  to  Easter  Sunday  was 
a  perfectly  charming  spring  day;  and  in  the 
afternoon  Amos  asked  Edith  to  take  a  walk 
with  him. 

"  Why  not  drive,  father  ?  Then  we  can  take 
little  Joe  with  us." 

"  Nay,  I  don't  want  little  Joe  this  afternoon, 
and  I  am  going  a  way  that  would  be  rather 
hard  on  thy  fine  carriage  and  horses." 

"  Won't  it  be  hard  on  me,  then?" 

"  Not  a  bit.  Put  on  a  pair  of  thick  shoes, 
and  I'll  give  thee  my  arm." 

Edith  did  not  make  any  further  opposition. 
She  had  come  to  understand  that  her  father- 
in-law's  unusual  movements  always  had  a 
purpose  in  them;  and  she  was  a  little  curi- 


AMOS  MAKES  EDITH  A    PROPOSAL.      271 

ous  as  to  what  new  thing  was  now  in  his 
mind. 

They  went  leisurely  through  the  park,  ad 
miring  its  excellent  condition,  and  happily  sen 
sitive  to  the  freshness  and  sweetness  of  the 
young  leaves  and  the  early  flowers,  though 
neither  spoke  very  much  of  such  unpractical 
things.  After  passing  the  gates,  Amos  turned 
to  the  left,  and  followed  a  rapid,  brawling 
stream  some  distance  up  the  hill.  There  was 
but  a  bridle  path,  and  the  road  was  rough,  but 
it  was  one  of  great  beauty. 

Edith  could  not  resist  the  delight  of  gather 
ing  the  lovely  saffron  primroses,  and  the  pale 
blue-bells,  and  the  tenderly  green  young  ferns. 
The  trees  whispered  above  them,  and  the  water 
came  down  in  a  clear,  sparkling  volume.  There 
was  mystery,  and  freshness,  and  beauty  all 
around  them  ;  and  as  the  path  narrowed,  and 
they  were  compelled  to  walk  singly,  they  ceased 
talking,  feeling  the  companionship  of  nature  to 
be  sufficient. 

In  a  few  minutes  they  came  to  the  head  of  a 
glen,  and  here  the  water  took  a  leap  of  fifty 
feet,  making,  in  its  irresistible  momentum,  what 
is  called  in  local  speech  "a  force."  Amos  stood 


272  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

looking  at  it  with  a  face  full  of  pleased  specula- 
tion,  while  Edith,  who  had  never  been  there 
since  her  childhood,  expressed  her  hearty  de 
light. 

"  It  is  the  loveliest  spot !  "  she  cried  ;  "  we 
must  bring  little  Joe  here,  and  have  a  picnic. 
Oh,  how  exquisitely  sweet  and  fresh  and  charm 
ing  it  all  is  !  It  seems,  up  here,  as  if  the  world 
had  just  been  made,  father." 

"  Ay,  it  is  a  bonny  place  ;  but  the  beauty  of  it 
isn't  what  I'm  thinking  of,  Edith.  There  is  a 
grand  water-power  here.  I've  been  up  before — 
looked  at  it  summer  and  winter.  I  say,  there 
is  a  grand  water-power  here." 

"  Well,  what  of  that,  father?" 

"  It  is  a  fair,  even-down  sin  and  shame  to 
hev  so  much  water  doing  nothing." 

Edith  smiled.  "  I  believe,  father,  that  you 
think  forces  and  becks  were  only  made  to  run 
mills." 

"  Whativer  could  they  do  better  ?  So  much 
water — so  much  water  going  to  waste  !  It 
mak's  me  varry  unhappy,  Edith." 

"  This  place  was  for  beauty,  father— a  little 
covert  for  the  lady-ferns  and  blue-bells.  I  didn't 
know  before  that  I  owned  such  a  pretty  spot." 


AMOS  MAKES  EDITH  A    PROPOSAL.      273 

"  There,  now  !  What  good  does  its  beauty 
do  ?  Who  iver  sees  t'  lady-ferns  and  blue-bells? 
Who  do  they  feed  and  clothe?  Looking  pretty 
is  all  varry  well,  but  neither  nature  nor  women 
folk  hev  any  right  to  stop  there,  if  they  can  do 
aught  else." 

"  There  must  be  some  places  left  for  recrea 
tion,  some  places  left  to  delight  the  eyes,  and 
rest  the  mind  and  body." 

"  I  hevn't  any  objections,  I'm  sure.  There 
are  lots  o'  bonny  places,  fit  for  nothing  else, 
with  no  water-power  worth  speaking  of.  This 
place  hes  more  privileges." 

*'  I  think  it  has." 

"Edith?" 

"  Yes,  father  ?  " 

"  I'll  build  Joe  a  cotton  mill  right  here,  if 
thou  art  willing.  I'll  buy  t'  land  of  thee  at  a 
fair  price." 

"  I  do  not  want  a  cotton  mill  so  near  the 
park,  father.  It  will  spoil  the  pretty  rural  vil 
lage,  too." 

"What  is  ta  talking  about?  I  sail  put  up 
t'  handsomest  mill  that  can  be  made  o'  stone 
and  mortar.  I'll  mak'  t'  chimney  so  that  folks 
will  come  miles  and  miles  to  hev  a  look  at  it,* 


274  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

and  I  sud  like  to  see  t'  park  or  t'  village  a  mill 
of  that  kind  would  spoil." 

"  Bradley  is  such  a  pretty,  rural,  idyllic  little 
village." 

"  I  don't  know  what  ta  means  with  thy  fine 
words,  but  I'll  tell  thee  what  I  think  o'  Brad 
ley.  It  wants  somebody  \vi'  sense  and  gump 
tion  to  do  summat  for  it.  Such  a  lot  of 
tumble-down,  thatched  cottages  and  sleepy 
dunderheads  of  hedgers  and  ditchers  I  niver 
saw  before." 

"  They  are  happy  and  contented." 

"  Because  they  know  no  better." 

"  Bevin  is  not  very  far  off.  If  they  want  mill 
work  they  can  go  to  Bevin." 

"  They  are  like  childer  ;  they  stay  at  home, 
even  though  home  is  but  a  middling  place. 
Edith,  thou  hes  no  right  to  hev  so  much  water 
going  to  waste.  It  ought  to  find  good  homes 
and  plenty  o'  bread  for  a  thousand  mouths, 
and  mak'  money  without  end  for  thee  and 
Joe." 

"  Do  you  really  think  that  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure,  I  do.  See,  now  !  I'll  build  a 
mill.  I'll  hev  it  ready  for  t'  looms  by  t1  time 
Joe  is  ready  for  it.  I  hev  vowed  that  he  sail 


AMOS  MAKES  EDITH  A    PROPOSAL.      275 

niver  hev  part  nor  lot  in  Bevin  Mill,  but  I  niver 
said  thet  I  wouldn't  build  him  a  mill  at  Brad 
ley." 

"  My  father  always  dreaded  having  a  mill 
near  the  park.  It  was  for  that  reason  he 
bought  the  land  around  Kattel  Force." 

"  Thy  father  made  his  money  in  mills." 

"  Yes  —  but  you  know  the  Bradleys  were 
country  gentlemen.  They  had  become  poor, 
but  they  had  always  been  at  Bradley.  My 
father,  like  many  other  old  Yorkshire  squires, 
began  manufacturing  in  order  to  rebuild  the 
fortunes  of  the  family." 

"Well,  whativer  he  did  thou  can  do.  I  sud 
think  that  he  bought  this  varry  bit  o'  land,  if 
he  hed  an  ounce  o'  sense,  with  t'  sole  idea  that 
some  o'  his  descendants  would  be  wise  enough 
to  build  a  mill  here.  Naturally,  he'd  want  them 
to  hev  t'  benefit  o'  such  a  grand  factory  site." 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  answered,  a  little  fretfully ; 
"  just  imagine  that  cascade  of  silver  water  black 
and  foul  with  the  refuse  of  dyeing  vats.  And 
the  stream  all  the  way  down,  with  its  fringe  of 
primroses  and  blue-bells,  how  soon  it  would  be 
come  dirty !  The  flowers  would  perish,  and  the 
clean  air  be  full  of  smoke." 


2 7 6  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

"  Silver  water,  as  ta  calls  it,  will  mak'  a  sight 
o'  gold  for  thee.  And  it  would  be  better  to 
see  a  thousand  men,  women,  and  children  on 
its  banks  than  primroses  and  blue-bells ;  for  I 
•do  hope  ta  doesn't  even  human  beings  wi'  flow 
ers  and  ferns  and  such  like." 

"It  is  such  a  new  idea  to  me,  father." 

"  I'm  a  bit  astonished  at  that.  Thou  art 
such  a  clever  woman,  I  was  sure  thou  would 
hev  thought  of  Kattel  Force  and  Joe  together, 
before  this." 

"  No,  I  had  not.  Of  course  I  knew  that  Joe 
must  have  a  mill  somewhere  near  Bradley,  and 
I  was  going  to  speak  to  you  about  it.  I 
thought  there  was  plenty  of  time." 

"There  is  no  time  to  lose  if  we  build  our  awn 
mill — not  a  day.  Now  then,  tak  what  I  hev 
proposed  into  thy  head,  and  turn  it  over  a  bit. 
I  think  ta  will  see  I  am  right." 

"  It  will  need  thinking  about  in  many  ways." 

"  Perhaps  ta  is  afraid  of  annoying  Lady 
Charlton,  for  ta  sees  if  we  build  here  thy  mill- 
chimney  will  be  in  sight  from  all  her  front  win 
dows,  and  when  t'  wind  blows  from  t'  east,  and 
it  mostly  does  blow  from  t'  east — she'll  get  all 
t'  smoke  it  can  send  her." 


AMOS  MAKES  EDITH  A   PROPOSAL.      277 

"  I  should  hardly  take  Lady  Charlton  into 
consideration,  with  any  of  my  plans." 

"  No,  I  sud  say  not.  She  niver  hed  any  con 
sideration  for  thee.  This  is  t'  varry  place  for 
Joe.  A  good  road  can  be  easily  made  here, 
and  his  gig  will  bring  him  to  thee  any  time  in 
twenty  minutes.  And  if  Kattel  suits  Joe  and 
thee,  thet's  t'  main  thing,  I  sud  say." 

"  Well,  father,  I  will  think  of  what  you  have 
said." 

"  Do,  Edith,  my  lass.  And  don't  thee  waste 
time.  We'll  hev  to  be  mak'ing  ready  for  Joe's 
home-coming.  If  ta  will  help  me,  we'll  do  our 
best  to  mak'  no  mistakes  with  him  this  time." 

"  You  are  the  dearest,  noblest,  most  gener 
ous  father  in  the  whole  world  !  It  would  be  a 
shame  to  cross  you  very  far." 

"Ay,  I  try  to  be.  And  I  hev  a  famous  good 
daughter.  A  father  would  do  a  deal  for  a  lass 
like  thee." 

"  I  will  speak  to  Perkins,  if  you  don't  mind. 
He  may  know  of  some  more  suitable 
place." 

"Ay,  he  may — and  he  may  not." 

"  If  we  can  buy  a  suitable  site  not  on  our  own 
land,  all  the  better." 


278  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

"  Mebbe.  But  speak  to  Perkins  if  ta  likes. 
He's  not  a  bad  one  to  ask ;  for  if  there's  a  bit 
o*  land,  far  or  near,  in  ta  market,  he  generally 
knows  all  about  it." 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

AMOS   BRAITHWAITE   AND   SON. 

*'  Man  is  his  own  star,  and  the  soul  that  can 
Render  an  honest  and  a  perfect  man 
Commands  all  light,  all  influence,  all  fate. 
Nothing  to  him  falls  early,  or  too  late. 
Our  acts  our  angels  are,  for  good  or  ill, 
Our  fatal  shadows,  that  walk  by  us  still." 

AMOS  had  acceded  to  his  daughter's  wish  to 
consult  Perkins  with  apparent  satisfac 
tion  ;  and  with  almost  unnecessary  haste  he 
decided  privately  to  follow  Edith's  intention. 
He  went  early  on  Monday  morning  to  see  the 
lawyer,  so  early  that  he  had  to  seek  him  at  his 
residence.  The  two  men  knew  each  other  too 
well  to  attempt  deception,  and  Amos,  without 
any  preparatory  explanation,  said,  "  I'm  before 
business  hours,  Perkins,  but  I  hev  a  good  rea 
son  for  bothering  thee.  I  want  to  build  Joe  a 
mill  on  Kattel.  Mrs.  Braithwaite  is  afraid  o* 
spoiling  her  view  and  her  rural  village  and 


28o  MASTER    OF  HIS  FATE. 

thinks  thou  can  mebbe  find  her  a  better  site, 
Now,  I  know  thou  can't,  and  if  ta  could,  I 
don't  want  any  other  site  found.  Think  of  it. 
Can  ta  find  another  place  half  so  suitable?" 

There  was  no  ofter  of  reward  made,  nothing 
approaching  the  idea  of  one  good  turn  deserves 
another  insinuated,  and  yet  Perkins,  looking 
steadily  at  Amos,  fully  understood  that  an  ad 
vantageous  offer  had  been  made  him.  He 
stroked  his  chin  a  few  moments,  and  seemed 
lost  in  a  deep  reflection  on  the  water-power  of 
the  locality,  but  his  answer  was  as  definite  as 
Amos  could  desire. 

"  I  really  do  not  know  of  any  site  but  Kattel 
that  could  be  procured  for  the  purpose  of  build 
ing  a  mill.  There  is  a  bit  of  land  on  Thorny 
Beck,  but  it  belongs  to  Lady  Charlton,  and  she 
refused  to  sell  it  to  John  Nelson  because  he 
wanted  to  build  a  mill  on  it." 

"  I  want  thee  to  tell  Mrs.  Braithwaite  that. 
Don't  forget  to  tell  her  it,  whativer  ta  does.  I 
think  it  will  do  a  deal  towards  making  her  settle 
on  Kattel." 

"  I  don't  see  how  it  can." 

"  Because  ta  niver  studied  up  women  ;  they 
aren't  in  thy  books.  Tell  Mrs.  Braithwaite 


AMOS  BRAITHWAITE  AND   SON.          281 

about  Thorny  Beck,  and  I  sudn't  wonder  if  she 
settles  at  once,  just  as  I  want  her  to." 

Having  opened  the  subject,  Amos  did  not 
allow  it  to  drop.  Whatever  Edith  thought, 
Amos  had  made  up  his  mind  that  there  ought 
to  be  a  mill  on  Kattel  Force.  As  for  the  dead 
Bradley  buying  the  land  purposely  to  prevent 
it,  Amos  was  not  deterred  by  that  considera 
tion.  "  He  ought  to  hev  hed  more  sense "; 
and  so  deep  and  so  deceitful  above  all  things 
is  the  heart  that  he  was  undoubtedly  more 
pleased  with  the  notion  because  it  contradicted 
a  pet  prejudice  of  his  old  enemy.  A  fine  mill 
on  that  fine  eminence  would  be  a  pleasant  sight 
to  him.  Braithwaite  Mill  on  Kattel  Force. 
"  My  word,"  he  thought,  "  if  Luke  Bradley  can 
know  it  and  see  it !  " 

As  for  Edith  she  made  as  brave  a  struggle  to 
preserve  her  little  glen  as  could  be  expected. 
She  spoke  to  Perkins  and  directed  him,  if  pos 
sible,  to  find  other  land,  even  though  the  price 
was  a  little  extravagant.  She  told  him  frankly 
that  she  did  not  want  to  destroy  the  lovely 
stream,  and  transform  the  quiet  hamlet  into  a 
dirty,  turbulent  mill  village. 

But  Perkins  had  already  settled  the    matter 


282  MASTER    OF  HIS  FATE. 

in  his  own  mind.  He  saw  now  why  Amos  had 
helped  the  Wesleyans  so  liberally  to  turn  the 
old  mill  into  a  chapel,  and  he  could  not  help 
admiring  the  forethought  of  his  old  client.  He 
was  almost  quite  sure  that  the  plans  Amos  had 
made  for  Joe  and  Edith  would  be,  in  the  end, 
very  wise  ones,  and  that  he  would  best  serve 
her  interests  by  encouraging  them.  In  fact,  he 
could  find  no  single  reason  for  discovering 
another  location  to  please  Edith,  and  he  could 
find  at  least  a  dozen  good  ones  for  pleasing 
Amos. 

So  when  he  visited  Bradley  on  the  subject, 
he  was  very  regretful,  but  also  very  positive. 
He  had  been  able  to  find  nothing  at  all  suitable 
but  a  tract  on  Thorny  Beck,  and  it  was  three 
miles  away." 

"  Is  there  a  good  road  to  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  a  very  good  road." 

"  That  might  do.     Who  owns  it?" 

"  Lady  Charlton." 

"  Will  she  sell  ?" 

"  She  was  anxious  to  sell  until  she  heard  it 
was  to  build  a  mill  on.  Then  she  flatly  re 
fused.  But  I  might  hev  known  she  would,  for 
she  refused  John  Nelson,  and  made  some  varry 


AMOS  BRAITHWAITE  AND   SON.          283 

contemptuous  remarks  about  mill  gentry,  at  t' 
same  time,  which  is  neither  here  nor  there.  I 
thought  as  you  and  her  were  friends  she'd 
mebbe  not  mind  your  mill.  But  she  wouldn't 
hear  of  it." 

"  Oh,  indeed  !     She  wouldn't  hear  of  it  ?  " 

"  She  says  it  is  so  unpleasant  to  see  mills. 
They  are  so  suggestive  of  work  and  poverty, 
and  vulgarity,  and  a  deal  of  other  disagreeable 
things." 

"  But,  Mr.  Perkins,  if  we  build  on  Kattel 
Fell,  it  seems  to  me  that  her  ladyship  will  be 
obliged  to  endure  the  sight  of  a  mill." 

"  I'm  afraid  so,  Mrs.  Braithwaite.  But  you 
see  Mr.  Joe  is  to  be  considered  first." 

"  I  should  think  so." 

"  And  it  is  your  awn  land." 

"  Of  course." 

"And  when  you  can't  do  what  you  want — " 

41  Then  I  must  do  as  I  can." 

"Just  so,  Mrs.  Braithwaite." 

And  the  end  of  the  matter  was  that  Amos 
got  his  own  way.  Before  the  spring  was  quite 
over,  men  began  to  dig  up  the  blue-bells  and 
primroses  to  a  level,  and  grade  a  wide  road,  and 
then  to  lay  a  foundation  of  mighty  strength, 


284  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

upon  which,  month  after  month,  rose  gradually 
a  tall,  gigantic  pile  of  masonry,  something  like 
a  model  prison,  a  great,  vast,  empty  shell  of 
enormous  strength,  into  which  Joe  was  to  bring 
the  steam  and  metal  witchcraft  of  Lancashire. 

Nearly  ten  years  had  now  passed  since  that 
morning  when  Joe  took  his  father's  check  for 
£5000  and  left  him.  If  any  one  had  then  told 
the  handsome,  rather  conceited  youth  the  point 
to  which  he  would  arrive  in  ten  years,  he  would 
have  regarded  his  life  as  a  failure,  and  felt 
anger  at  the  supposition.  But  our  views  of  life 
up  to  a  certain  age  constantly  change  ;  the  sue- 
cess  of  one  decade  is  not  the  aim  of  another, 
and  Joe,  sitting  with  his  godfather,  on  the  last 
night  of  his  apprenticeship,  was  satisfied  with 
the  prospect  before  him. 

"  Thou  art  ready  for  work,  now,  Joe.  Thou 
art  a  good  man,  and  a  good  cotton  spinner, 
and  I'm  proud  of  thee  in  both  ways.  What 
wilt  ta  do  with  thysen  ?  Has  ta  thought  of 
it?" 

"  I  have  been  thinking  a  great  deal  of  it." 

"Will  ta  ask  Mrs.  Joe  to  build  thee  a  mill? 
Thou  could  tak'  her  as  thy  partner,  J.  &  E. 
Bradley,  Cotton  Spinners." 


AMOS  BRA1THWAITE  AND  SON.          285 

"  No,  no,  my  wife  is  my  wife,  and  I'll  not 
mix  her  with  my  business.  I  am  going  to  ask 
my  father  to  lend  me  sufficient  money  to  begin 
business  in  a  rented  mill.  If  he  will  not  do  it, 
I  shall  ask  you,  godfather." 

"  Thou  ask  thy  father.  He  niver  said  he 
would  not  lend  thee  money,  and  if  he  did  the 
sooner  he  breaks  a  wicked  oath  the  more  of  a 
man  he  will  be.  I  hev  told  him  that,  in  so- 
many  plain  words  before  this.  Give  thy  father 
a  chance  to  be  a  good  father,  by  being  a  good 
son.  I'm  none  afraid  but  what  Amos  Braith- 
waite  will  do  about  right  for  thee." 

The  next  day  Joe  went  home,  and  Edith, 
radiant  and  beautiful,  was  waiting  for  him. 
When  he  stepped  from  the  train  to  the  plat 
form,  it  was  with  the  free,  independent  air  of  a 
man  who  knows  the  cunning  in  his  ten  fingers 
is  good  for  his  fortune,  and  Edith  recognized 
his  manhood  and  his  authority.  He  spoke  to 
the  coachman  differently  and  the  man  answered 
him  differently.  In  less  than  an  hour  the  wife 
and  the  servants  understood  that  he  had  come 
home  as  master. 

The  first  persons  he  saw  on  entering  the 
Bradley  parlor  were  Martha  Thrale  and  his 


286  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

father.  Martha  was  putting  the  last  festival 
touches  to  the  tea-table.  Amos  was  serenely 
smoking  at  the  window;  Joe  went  straight  to 
him.  He  put  out  his  hand,  and  said  frankly, 
"  Father,  I  was  very  wrong  not  to  take  your 
advice  ten  years  ago.  I  am  very  sorry  for  my 
folly.  I  hope  you  will  forgive  me." 

"Say  no  more,  Joe.  I  hev  forgiven  thee 
long  since.  Sam  lies  written  reg'lar  to  me.  I 
know  all  about  thee,  my  lad." 

"  I'm  so  happy  to  see  you  here." 

"  I  lied  to  come  here.  When  ta  left  thy  wife 
I  were  forced  to  look  after  her  for  thee.  Dost 
ta  think  I  was  going  to  let  Tom,  Dick,  and 
Harry  hev  leave  and  license  to  say  this  or  that 
about  her  ?  Not  I  !  I  don't  know  whativer 
she  would  hev  done  without  me."  And  Amos 
laughed  heartily  as  he  said,  "Ay,  ta  may  well 
kiss  that  big  lad  o'  thine,  Martha ;  I  hev  heard 
tell  that  he  is  as  hot  a  Methodist  as  thysen 
now." 

It  is  not  often  that  anticipated  joys  realize 
their  promise,  but  this  reunion  did.  It  was 
perhaps  the  happiest  evening  in  all  the  -peri- 
ence  of  Amos.  He  had  so  much  to  tell,  and 
so  much  to  listen  to,  and  Edith's  praises  of  his 


AMOS  BRAITHWAITE   AND   SON.          287 

kindness  and  wisdom  were  exceedingly  pleasant 
things  to  listen  to. 

In  the  morning  he  said  to  Joe,  "  I  want  thee 
to  tak'  a  walk  with  me,  Joe.  I  hev  summat  to 
show  thee."  And  as  they  neared  Kattel  he 
asked,  "  Is  ta  going  to  stick  to  cotton  spinning, 
my  lad  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  am,  father." 

"  Wilt  ta  tak  me  as  thy  partner  ?  " 

"  Father,  do  you  really  mean  it  ?  " 

"  Do  I  iver  talk  on  both  sides  o'  my  mouth? 
I  hed  a  bit  o'  brass  lying  idle,  so  I  bought  some 
land  on  Kattel,  and  I  hev  built  a  mill  on  it,  for 
I  tell  thee,  Joe,  it  was  a  sin  to  see  all  that  water 
going  to  waste.  Now,  if  ta  likes,  thee 'and  me 
will  fill  that  mill  with  spinning-Jennys.  And, 
my  lad,  we'll  drive  all  Wharfdale  before  us. 
Thou  can  manage  t'  cotton  mill,  and  I'll  stick 
to  t'  wool  and  Bevin." 

"  I  never  knew  I  had  such  a  good  father. 
Why,  you  have  been  thinking  of  me  and  plan 
ning  for  me  all  the  time  I  have  been  away." 

"  To  be  sure  I  was.  Does  ta  think  I  was 
going  to  let  Sam  Yorke  take  my  place  ?  Is  it  a 
bargain?  Sail  it  be  Amos  Braithwaite  and  Son, 
Cotton  Spinners?" 


288  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

"  I  shall  be  the  proudest  man  in  Yorkshire 
when  that  day  comes." 

"Then  thou  can  begin  to  be  proud  this 
varry  hour.  See  there!  That  is  our  mill, 
Joe.  It  wants  naught  but  t'  looms  and  t' 
hands ;  thou  can  get  them  as  soon  as  iver  ta 
likes." 

A  very  happy  summer  followed  this  arrange 
ment.  Amos  and  Joe  were  so  busy  that  the 
long  days  were  far  too  short,  and  Amos  often 
wished  "  time  were  nobbut  in  t'  market,  so  as 
he  could  buy  a  few  hours  ivery  day  at  any 
quotation."  What  ridings  over  to  Bevin  and 
Bradley  there  were!  What  consultations,  what 
extemporized  meals  in  both  houses.  Martha 
and  Edith  grew  really  fond  of  each  other,  while 
they  discussed  the  uncertainty  of  dinners  and 
teas,  and  the  necessity  of  strengthening  food 
for  such  busy  men. 

But  time  makes  all  events  a  little  stale,  and 
«ven  the  opening  of  the  big  mill  was  forgotten 
in  a  newer  event  of  more  personal  importance, 
the  advent  of  Joe's  second  son.  When  Martha 
Thrale  lifted  the  little  crying  mite  of  humanity 
in  her  arms,  she  forgave  Edith  every  thing. 
And  there  was  no  hesitation  about  the  name 


AMOS  BRAITHWAITE  AND  SON.          289 

of  this  boy.  He  was  called  Amos  as  soon  as 
he  came  into  the  world. 

Amos  was  wonderfully  delighted.  He  gave 
all  his  hands  a  holiday  and  a  big  feast,  and  he 
had  again  a  desire  to  go  into  Bradford  and  buy 
a  piece  of  jewelry  or  silverware  ;  this  time  he 
did  it.  And  if  the  newly  arrived  Amos  Braith- 
waite,  Junior,  could  have  used  a  full  silver  din 
ner  service  he  would  have  received  it  from  the 
proud  and  happy  grandfather. 

Just  after  making  this  delightful  outlay, 
he  met  Joshua  Perkins,  coming  up  Darley 
street.  "  Hes  ta  heard  ?  "  he  asked,  in  a  lofty, 
exultant  tone.  "  I  told  thee  my  Joe  was  no  fool. 
T'  mill  is  doing  beyond  ivery  thing.  T'  little 
rural  village  is  getting  to  be  a  busy  town,  and 
yesterday,  Perkins,  there  was  another  Amos 
Braithwaite  arrived  in  this  world." 

"  It  is  rather  hard  for  a  man  to  be  a  fool  that 
hes  got  a  rich  father,  a  rich  wife,  and  a  rich 
godfather." 

"  Stop  thy  talk,  Perkins.  There's  many  a 
lad  hes  hed  rich  upholders — richer  than  Joe  hes, 
but  there's  varry  few  lads  who,  if  they  hed  lost 
four  years  and  .£5,000  in  a  lawyer's  office,  would 
hev  hed  spirit  enough  to  kick  t'  law  and  ivery 


290  MASTER    OF  HIS  FATE. 

thing  about  t'  law  to  the  '  back-of-beyond,1 
and  then  go  to  work  like  a  man." 

"  Mr.  Joe  married?  " 

"  I'm  coming  to  that.  There's  a  fewer  still, 
who,  when  they  make  a  mistake  in  their  wed 
ding  venture,  hev  t'  sense  to  find  out  what  is 
wrong,  and  then  set  themselves  to  put  it  right. 
Why,  if  my  Joe  married  for  love  now,  he'd  hev 
nobody  but  Edith  Bradley,  even  if  she  worked 
in  a  mill  and  hadn't  a  sixpenny  bit." 

"  It's  a  topsy-turvy  world,  Braithwaite. 
We'll  see  how  things  are  ten  years  after  date. 
There'll  be  changes,  changes  no  doubt,  Mr. 
Braithwaite." 

"  There  will  be  one  change  we  won't  wait 
ten  years  for,  Perkins.  We  are  going  to  spend 
no  more  money  on  lawyers.  We  hev  got  a 
lawyer  in  t'  firm  now.  Good  afternoon  to 
thee." 

However,  this  was  but  a  passing  breeze ;  for 
one  morning,  more  than  ten  years  afterwards, 
Perkins  went  to  Bevin  Mill  to  see  Amos  and 
found  that  he  had  gone  to  Bradley.  He  fol 
lowed  him  there,  and  was  told  he  was  in  the 
summer-house  with  the  children.  There  Per 
kins  soon  came  upon  him,  as  happr  as  a  boy 


AMOS  BRAITHWAITE  AND   SON.          i?Z 

among  Joe's  eldest  four  children.  Amos, 
Junior,  was  busy  pulling  to  pieces  a  bit  of  toy 
machinery,  and  Jean  Braithwaite,  aged  six,  was 
examining  her  grandfather  on  the  history  of 
Jack-the-Giant-Killer,  an  examination  from 
which  the  self-made  man  came  out  with  dis 
creditable  confusion  on  account  of  defective 
early  training. 

He  put  Jean  off  one  knee  and  Sam  off  the 
other,  but  it  was  with  difficulty  he  could  get 
away  from  the  children,  and  Perkins  wondered 
"if  they  weren't  a  great  trouble  to  him." 

"  Not  nearly  so  much  as  thou  art.  Whativer 
does  ta  want  to-day?" 

"  Barley-steads  is  in  t'  market,  and  Mr.  Joe 
wants  to  buy  it.  I  told  him  he  sud  know  first 
of  any  one." 

"  Joe  is  up  to  t'  mill." 

"  My  word,  Amos,  what  a  change  that  mill 
lies  made  in  Bradley.  T'  village  is  a  big  town, 
and  I  hear  Mr.  Joe  is  to  be  mayor." 

"Thou  hears  a  deal  o'  nonsense.  Joe  hes 
more  sense  than  to  mind  ivery  body's  business. 
And  I  told  thee  what  t'  mill  would  do.  If  owd 
Bradley  hed  hed  as  much  sense  as  a  hank  o' 
wool  he  would  hev  turned  thet  water  into  gold 


292  MASTER   OF  HIS  FATE. 

thirty  years  ago.  A  man  hes  no  right  to  let  so 
much  water-power  go  to  waste." 

"  I  heard  also  thet  Mr.  Joe  was  going  to  run 
t'  Conservative  ticket  for  parliament." 

"Joe  could  do  it,  but  he's  far  too  good  a 
man  for  such  a  job.  James  Sedbergh  left  it 
because  of  its  irregularities  and  t'  bad  hours  it 
kept.  My  Joe  is  thet  way  too." 

Here  they  were  interrupted  by  a  glad  cry  of 
"  There's  grandpapa,  there's  grandpapa  !  "  and 
Joe  and  Edith  and  the  children  came  down  the 
lilac  avenue  together.  "  Thou'lt  hev  to  stay 
all  night,  thou  sees,  Perkins,  but  thou  can  talk 
Barley-steads  over  with  Joe,  and  tak'  thy  time 
about  it.  And  in  t'  morning  thou  sail  go  to 
church  wi'  me.  Thou  needs  a  good,  rousing 
sermon  I'll  be  bound." 

Joe  was  now  a  handsome,  portly  man,  with 
the  grave  look  of  one  who  carries  the  daily 
bread  of  a  whole  little  community  in  his  hands ; 
and  it  was  pleasant  to  see  how  thoughtful  Edith 
was  of  this,  and  how  she  quieted  the  children, 
and  contrived  that  Joe  and  Perkins  should  get 
away  unobserved  to  the  library  after  tea. 

Pleasanter  still  to  see  the  whole  family  tend 
ing  churchward  next  morning,  Amos  trying  to 


AMOS  BRAITHWAITE  AND  SON.          293 

subdue  his  usual  pompous,  bustling  way  and 
set  an  example  to  all  of  grave  and  serious 
attention.  He  had  Edith  on  his  arm,  Joe  and 
the  children  followed,  and  Perkins  and  Martha 
Thrale  completed  the  family  group.  And 
though  Perkins  did  not  get  the  rousing  sermon 
Amos  thought  he  needed,  he  heard  a  very 
earnest  talk  on  a  subject  that  seemed  to  him, 
when  he  looked  at  Joe,  singularly  appropriate, 
"Redeeming  the  time" — redeeming  the  time 
wasted  through  folly  or  mistake  or  misappre 
hension,  holding  it  for  richest  truth 

"That  men  may  rise  on  stepping-stones 
Qi  their  dead  selves  to  higher  things." 


THE  END. 


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